The Prophecy of Absconditus
by Page of Cups
Summary: Absconditus collapsed in 372 A.D. For hundreds of years, history passed into legend. Now these visions haunt Ron Weasley's dreams. The past has a strange way of repeating itself. RWDM slash COMPLETE
1. Absconditus, 372 AD

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name:  AndromedanQueen**

**Title:  The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Absconditus collapsed in 372 A.D.  History passed into legend except for the visions that haunt Ron Weasley's dreams.  The past has a strange way of repeating itself.**

**Disclaimer:   This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things.  The plot, Ryan Alcor, Bade Mizar, Aleco, Hero Veriatice, Lorenzo Merak, and anyone else you may not recognize belong to me. **

**CAUTION:  This story contains SLASH.  Slash indicates boys liking boys, boys dating boys, etc.  If this is not your cup of tea, please click back on your browser.  If this is what you were looking for, read on.  You have been warned.**

**ARCHIVE:  If you would like to archive this story, please e-mail me first so that I may view your site.  If I find this story listed without my permission, there will be hell to pay.**

**Special thanks to the people who beta-ed, promised to beta, or gave input to the makings of this story.  Your work did not go unnoticed, and you are appreciated.**

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**_Chapter One:  Absconditus, 372 A.D._**

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The night was more placid than he would have liked, as the sky grew black with only starlight to illuminate the shadows.  On the top floor of a small stone prison, Ryan Alcor peered through his barred windows at the kingdom of Absconditus below.  No one was out at this hour and a bitter bite in the back of his head whispered that his father would have been pleased.  The man always did seem to have a problem with the late night rendezvous by the locals.  Even if you were king, you didn't always get the order you so desired.

Ryan testified to that.  Royalty or not, he stood by this barred window.  Tomorrow, it would only be a memory, and things would all be over, at least for now.  Alecto had come and gone, bringing a joy that only left him in misery.  She and her forsaken prophecy!  Ryan braced himself against the window, and rested his forehead on the back of his palm.

As much as he liked to tell himself that tomorrow would be a day just like any other, his intuition told him differently -- his intuition and that headache, which wouldn't leave him, and flashed images across his eyes.  He knew Alecto meant well.  She was an admired priestess and oracle, and most of the people of Absconditus would be honored to have her guidance.  Alecto, however, wasn't the only one with the gift of foresight, and so she would have to excuse Ryan if he didn't seem grateful to have his worst fears confirmed.

The prophecy, she said.  That was all he heard for weeks now, ever since he was accused and tried for the murder of his father and brother.  She came once a day, much to the chagrin of his stepmother, Larrissa, and with each visit, they talked about the prophecy -- the prophecy that would save the wizarding world one day if it was carried out properly.  Of course, if it was carried out properly, it would also cause the death of the entire kingdom.  Ryan didn't know what to make of that.

Glancing to the corner, Ryan saw three silhouettes shrouded in the dark.  Those were the bodies of his cell mates -- the people in his life who had been condemned to die the next morning just as Ryan was.  He didn't know how it could have gotten so far.  He didn't know how Larrissa had gotten the better of him.  An image of his stepmother in luxurious clothes, sitting up in his palace -- while he was waiting to die -- came into his mind.  She sipped some refined beverage (a wine from the cellar), laughed with Reynaldo about silly little Ryan Alcor, and was very proud of herself.  It wasn't every day you got away with murdering the king and pinning it on his youngest son.

"Ryan?" said a voice, and in the dark, a pair of soft silvery blue eyes met his.

"Bade."

"Why are you not sleeping?  Tomorrow is a day of the utmost importance."

"Because tomorrow is my last.  I don't want to miss a moment."

"Care if I join you?"

"Please."

Shuffles echoed from the corner as Bade disconnected from Hero and Lorenzo, and then he was by Ryan's side, slipping their fingers together.  Ever since cursed and sentenced to death, Ryan imagined his final night to be more . . . final.  Instead, things were just like always, and the kingdom was tranquil, unlike tomorrow when there would be chaos, and it would seem that the apocalypse had come.

"Why do you worry?"

"Can you believe that after tomorrow, this will all be gone?"

Bade stared hard at the set expression on Ryan's face, and then followed his gaze through the bars.  He gave a stiff nod, and tightened his grip on Ryan's hand.

"This is the only way.  You know that.  Alecto --"

"I know, Bade.  I've heard about the prophecy just as many times as you have.  I've also heard the cries of the people.  They want us dead, and if things go the way that Alecto has foreseen -- what I've foreseen . . . we aren't going to be the only ones who die tomorrow.  The only difference is they won't take down the city with them."

"You're far too theatrical, Ryan," said Bade.  "You know it needs to be done.  If we just allow them -- we shouldn't even be here.  But to let my mother and Reynaldo win?  I cannot let that happen."

Ryan didn't answer, but he felt that Bade understood.

It seemed like a very long time ago when Ryan was still a free man.  The second son of King Reegan of Absconditus, Ryan was known through the kingdom as "The Forgotten Alcor."  Starvos, his elder brother, had been the Prince-in-Waiting, and was lavished upon.  His mother died when he was still a young child, and Larrissa Mizar became Reegan's second wife.

She was wealthy, of high stature, and came with the baggage of her only son, Bade.  

"I had to keep him," Larrissa swore to his father one day.  "The pregnancy was an accident -- rape and all.  No matter what potion I took, or what the mediwitches did, the brat survived.  I couldn't just get rid of him.  What would people think of me?"

Bade was a bastard child who never knew his father, and because of this, was rejected by his mother.  After growing with Starvos, Ryan had been thrilled to find a friend in Bade.  They understood each other, and what it meant to be forgotten, a joke.

Lorenzo Merak was a wizard page and servant.  A friend to Bade and learning under Reynaldo Lynx (advisor to the king), Ryan met the runaway child upon his arrival.  He came from a family of drunkards, and desired to be a proper wizard.  His unusual power to affect time earned a place in the court.

Hero Veriatice was one of the most heartbreaking cases that Ryan could think of, and it hurt him to see her sharing his prison cell.  When she was only four years old, she was sold into slavery due to outstanding family debts.  Her father murdered her mother when she was seven, he was beheaded, and all hopes to escape slavery vanished.  As a bit of a joke on Ryan's part, Larrissa assigned the girl to be the Prince's handmaid.  This was where things became too complicated, and Ryan shut his eyes, hoping to block out the world.

Secrets are in every family, in every kingdom, and Ryan hid his share.

He was six years old when he first met Bade Mizar, but because either Larrissa never felt like a mother, or Bade was more of a friend, he never seemed like a real brother.  He never meant to fall in love with his stepbrother, but Ryan found him irresistible.  Already a joke in the kingdom, he didn't dare let his stepbrother know of these feelings, but Bade figured it out on his own.

For several years they were lovers before needing some kind of commitment, but no offer presented itself.  Who could they trust their secret to?  Only Lorenzo and Hero knew, both of whom because they were in such close corridors, age, and found solace in each other.

Meanwhile, Hero and Lorenzo found each other, and when Ryan went to his handmaid for advice, he discovered she was pregnant.  Through tears, Hero confessed her pregnancy, a story for only Ryan's ears, but another heard.  By the next morning, the entire kingdom was aware, and Ryan was thought to be the source of the infidelity.  The public stoned Hero, and she almost lost the baby by sundown. 

It was a time of horror.  Though he had always been somewhat forgotten, he held a sense of superiority.  Perhaps this was due to the gift of foresight, an inner eye that he possessed since birth.  He may have been a wizard, and he may have lived in a wizard city, but even there was the gift of Seeing rare.  Only Alecto, the oracle, had gifts in Seeing before Ryan.  It was so rare a gift, in fact, that his predictions earned a place in the Knight Court.  Starvos was furious. 

Ryan didn't know what to make of his brother's actions.  Within a fortnight, he, Hero, Bade, and Lorenzo were arrested, each playing a part in the murder of King Reegan and Prince Starvos.  Ryan and Bade conspired to take the throne, while Lorenzo poisoned Reegan.  Hero lured Starvos, murdered him.  They were each innocent, but they were each condemned, and due to die tomorrow. 

"There is an evil," said Alecto, "that will be born out of this decree.  It is an old magic that he who takes innocent blood shall pay a price." 

They scattered their magic throughout the city, and tomorrow, at sunrise, the city would collapse.  To bind a soul is to return with that soul.  The old magic that Alecto spoke of refered to revenge:  Because they were due to die, they would be given a chance to escape, be reborn, and take back what was theirs.  They would have their second show down, return with those who had forsaken.  Ryan wasn't sure about this. 

She had seen a time where the future of magic would be uncertain, and where evil roamed.  She had seen a time where the special gift that each of the four possessed would become very important.  She had seen a time where they could save others from the same fate they suffered.  He wanted to help, but looking out at Absconditus, Ryan didn't know if it was right at the price of all those lives.  They had condemned him, but did he have a place to pass judgment?  Almost as if knowing what he thought, Bade took him by the arm, and captured his lips. 

"Don't think on it," he said.  "Absconditus will fall, but the fountain will be preserved, and in it, so will our magic.  These people -- if we don't do something, we will die forever.  No chance to come back and set things right.  And my mother -- do you want to leave the fate of our world in her hands?  Reynaldo's?" 

"You know I don't." 

"There's nothing to think on.  Tomorrow will be the last of Absconditus, but it will not be our end.  We will return in that time that Alecto has Seen.  We'll be able to get our revenge and savor redemption.  If we don't --"

"I know," said Ryan, dropping his eyes.  "The curse.  The trial.  The sentence.  If the process is completed --"

"If Absconditus does not fall --"

"Then our gifts will be taken, and the government . . . what if I don't care, Bade?  Sometimes the gift of foresight seems more like a curse." 

Bade said nothing, but moved to stand behind his lover. 

"I've Seen what's going to happen tomorrow.  I've Seen the suffering we're going to cause, and all the people who will lose their lives just because they condemned us.  I don't think it's fair, but I don't think what we're doing is right, either.  I know that if we don't, a power more evil than we can ever imagine will emerge, but I can't bring myself to see virtue in this.  If it's slaughter --"

"If it's survival --"

"We're going to go away, and the city is going to fall.  Alecto is going to take us, we're going to pass on, and Absconditus -- it will all be gone.  Everything.  Your mother, our people, gone in a heartbeat, because we didn't want our gifts to be taken." 

"I don't want them put to a use that my mother might see fit.  Could you imagine if she got hold of mine?" 

"I know," said Ryan. 

"Everything will be all right.  You'll see." 

"I certainly hope you're right.  You said the same thing when the curses started, and now Lorenzo is blind." 

"Lorenzo is going to a better place.  He doesn't need something trivial like his eyes to see the glories there." 

"How did you get to be so smart?" 

Bade smirked. 

"What about Hero?  She's been a mess.  After the baby, and the furies -- Alecto said that Rune would be taken care of.  I can't imagine what that's supposed to mean, but -- I feel terrible, Bade.  Everyone thinks that was me.  My curse is to have lost the child, but Lorenzo -- and he can't see her pain, but he can feel it.  She's suffered enough." 

"We've all suffered enough.  You don't think you're the only one." 

"No." 

"I adore you." 

Bade moved his lips to the back of Ryan's ear, and pressed the soft pink flesh of his lips gently against Ryan's skin. 

"Ryan, love, don't think on it.  We'll be gone by sunrise, and with Alecto, we're going to get away.  Cities rebuild.  One day we'll be back, and then I'll be with you again.  A thousand years couldn't keep me from loving you." 

"What about two thousand?" 

"I'd still worship you.  Stars sparkle, shimmer, and all fade away.  Except you."

"I'm a star?" 

"Nothing but." 

"You're beautiful," said Ryan. 

"You're crazy." 

Ryan covered Bade's hand with his own, and gazed out into the kingdom.  The morning would come, and when it did, they would be far away from here, on the mountain where Alecto made her home.  From there, they would watch the city crumble, and they would die along with it, murdering their home and each other.  When the morning came, everything that Ryan had ever known would be gone, and it would be centuries until he would feel Bade's touch once again.  When the morning came . . .

**If you want to be updated on this story, email me at the address above.  I plan on updating once a week on Tuesday afternoons (Eastern Time).  I can add you to the update list or you can check back then.**

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	2. London, 1997

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name:  AndromedanQueen**

**Title:  The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Absconditus collapsed in 372 A.D. History passed into legend except for the visions that haunt Ron Weasley's dreams. The past has a strange way of repeating itself.**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. The plot, Ryan Alcor, Bade Mizar, Aleco, Hero Veriatice, Lorenzo Merak, and anyone else you may not recognize belong to me.******

**CAUTION: This story contains SLASH. Slash indicates boys liking boys, boys dating boys, etc. If this is not your cup of tea, please click back on your browser. If this is what you were looking for, read on. You have been warned.******

**ARCHIVE: If you would like to archive this story, please e-mail me first so that I may view your site. If I find this story listed without my permission, there will be hell to pay.**

****

**_Chapter Two:  _****_London_****_, 1997_**

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Platform nine and three-quarters was packed to capacity with Hogwarts students on September first as Ron Weasley ran through the magical barrier.  Ten minutes remained until the train pulled out of the station, and Ron took his time weaving along to find a compartment or Hermione.  Harry already came through the barrier, and Ron caught up with him several seconds after he began to push his trolley.  A smirk tugged at his lips when he came to a stop, seeing that Harry pinned his Head Boy badge to his school robes. 

"Strutting around with that thing already?" 

Harry stared, his face blank, and then lit up in understanding.  Turning a light pink, Harry nodded. 

"If Hermione can owl us once a week about getting her Head Girl badge, I can certainly strut.  Especially after missing prefect two years in a row." 

"At least you aren't telling me about your wonderful accomplishment over and over again." 

" 'I can't believe I made Head Girl!' " Harry said in a high-pitched squeak, which sounded nothing like Hermione.  Ron laughed.  " 'Did I tell you?  I just couldn't remember.  It's really such an honor.' "

"Are you talking about me?" 

Ron chewed on his bottom lip, biting back laughter, as Harry turned around to find Hermione behind him.  Giving her a sheepish smile, Harry shrugged his shoulders.  The stern look on Hermione's face faded when she saw Ron, and she rushed forward to throw her arms around him. 

"What about me?" asked Harry, as Ron returned the hug.  Hermione stared at him. 

"What about you?" 

"Where is my hug?" 

"You don't get one." 

"You don't deserve one," said Ron. 

"You can't afford one." 

"That was just foul." 

"You've spent too much time together this summer," said Hermione. 

Ron supposed there was truth in it.  He spent three weeks at the Burrow before Hedwig showed up one morning with a letter inviting Ron to spend the summer.  He was miffed.  Since when did Ron go to spend the summer with Harry?  

As it turned out, while Harry was away at Hogwarts during sixth year, Vernon and Petunia Dursley separated.  Vernon refused to allow Harry housing at his place of residence any longer, claimed Harry could not come back to Privet Drive for the summer.  Petunia packed her bags and left.  Ron didn't know if this had anything to do with fear of Dumbledore or a sustaining alliance to her sister, but Petunia came to pick Harry up from the station alone.  She even allowed Harry to invite a friend for the summer, hence the letter. 

An entire holiday of work and play built up the perfect balance.  Ron left for their flat almost immediately in a Ministry car that Fudge gave the family after his fifth year.  The family rarely used it (Bill called it a sad attempt to get back on the Weasleys' good side), but they made an exception.  When he arrived, Harry showed him around.  Due to the congestion of the area they lived in, and that Petunia was still uncomfortable with magic, Quidditch was out of the question, but Harry showed him this wonderful Muggle invention called a television. 

Ron returned to the Burrow two weeks before holiday was over.  With last minute homework finished and all items on the required list picked up, Ron prepared to head back for seventh year. 

After O.W.L.s, Ron dropped History of Magic but managed to bluff his way to an A in Divination, which he continued in sixth year (mostly because he surprised himself and could use the easy grade).  This year, Ron dropped Divination for Advanced Prognostics, taught by an Auror from the Ministry and certified Seer.  Advanced Prognostics was given to students by invitation, and a rare elective to be taken, but in his sixth year (much to his own surprise as anyone else's), Ron developed a gift of foresight.  The incident in Divination where he made his first prediction had been quite humorous, and things got even better when Ron received invitation.  Parvati and Lavender still weren't quite ready to forgive him. 

In addition to Advanced Prognostics, Ron was taking Pureblood Ancestry and Mythology.  Unfortunately, so were Harry and Hermione.  Ron would have been pleased to have Hermione and Harry in lessons with him, but this was different.  Ron signed up because he wanted an easy subject for his last year, and being a pureblood, not much would be new to him.  It focused on the things that all pureblood children grew up knowing.  For Harry, who had lived with Muggles, and Hermione, who was born to Muggles, things wouldn't be the same.  In fact, it would probably make them look at the wizarding world differently, and Ron spent most the summer trying to talk Harry into dropping the class.  Harry thought Ron had gone off the deep end.  Ron only hoped that the professor didn't teach about the Potter family.  Some things were better left unsaid. 

"So what did you do all summer?" asked Hermione, once they had found a compartment and settled in.  The Hogwarts Express rolled along in the direction of the castle. 

"Chores," said Harry. 

"Television," said Ron. 

"Homework," they chorused.  Hermione seemed pleased. 

"I learned so much this summer!  I couldn't believe how fascinating the Chaucer - Chadwick case was in 1902.  Imagine, all those people dead and no one knew for the longest time.  It was absolutely horrible." 

"Ron kept trying to talk me out of doing my Pureblood Ancestry work.  Said I should just drop the class." 

"It won't be as easy for you as it will for me," said Ron. 

"You really shouldn't take a class you know all about already," Hermione said.  "How are you ever supposed to learn anything?  I did that essay last.  I never knew so much about Keepers before.  I had read about them, of course, but there was so much I didn't know, especially about the Keeper Civil War of 1174.  They were almost completely wiped away, and I think it's wonderful how they each specialize in one power.  And wandless magic!" 

"Every time I read about Keepers, I thought of the Quidditch position," said Harry.  Ron stifled a laugh. 

"Harry, the Quidditch Keeper and an actual Keeper have nothing in common.  One is an athlete, and the other is a magical being." 

"I know that.  I was just stating." 

Ron failed at suppressing a snigger, causing Harry to form the same sheepish smile, that almost became a permanent part of his face since boarding the train.  The Incident last year sparked that sheepish smile in the first place.  Something about everyone knowing he was gay made Harry go into sheepish mode a lot.  Hermione didn't seem to notice. 

"Everything is about Quidditch with you, Harry, honestly." 

"Ever since Umbridge," said Ron. 

"I, for one, found them fascinating.  Especially with the life expectancy.  Tragic, isn't it?" 

"What's tragic?" 

"The life expectancy of a Keeper!  Harry, where is your mind today?" 

"Probably in the gutter," said Ron.  Harry grinned. 

"I'm sorry, Mione, but I don't get what's tragic." 

"Didn't you research for your paper at all?" 

"Of course I did, but the assignment didn't say anything about life expectancy.  It just said that we had to define a Keeper.  I didn't know I had to know the life expectancy." 

"Well you don't have to know, exactly, but I would have thought you'd have come across it.  I mean, they have the highest suicide rate in all magical beings because of the stress that comes with the job.  And they're just born into it, too, never asking for any of it." 

"I'd probably off myself, too.  I know Malfoy would," said Ron.  A dreamy look came over his face, and Hermione tried to hide her smile.  "Too bad he wasn't born a Keeper.  Maybe he is and we just don't know.  They have to keep it secret and all." 

"If he was born a Keeper, he'd be Muggle-born.  They all are.  It's in the Keeper Code of Conduct and Law, act sixteen, subsection one.  And he wouldn't be learning at Hogwarts until he was older.  Maybe not even then.  Not all Keepers are trained in magic, just the really powerful ones, because they only specialize in one power, and that's born into them.  All their magic is wandless.  And they don't have to keep it secret.  Just from Muggles.  Besides, it's probably a good thing that Malfoy isn't a Keeper.  Once they're created, they're reincarnated over and over again with their circle until it's decided that they can move on." 

"I think one lifetime with Malfoy around is more than enough," said Harry. 

"That was my point.  There's this one circle -- the Corona Romana -- they're thought to have the most powerful Keepers in this lifetime.  They're one of the oldest circles.  Livia and Atropos, their Seers, date all the way back the oracles of ancient Rome.  Kalypso was the inventor of Switching Spells.  I hadn't known before, and she -"

"Can we talk about something other than school work?" asked Ron.  "Like holiday.  Or play chess.  Or do something that doesn't involve books and research, no offense Hermione.  You know we don't share your passion for learning." 

"I know," she said, and then sighed.  "Yes, why don't you two play chess?  I think I'm going to go for a walk.  Visit Neville and Ginny." 

"You do that." 

Hermione gave them a small, resigned nod before standing and leaving the compartment.  Ron watched her go, feeling guilty for chasing her away.  From the look on Harry's face, he wasn't feeling much better about it than Ron was.  Exchanging glances, Harry searched for the chessboard and pieces. 

"Did we come off as rude?" 

"Me?  You're the one who wanted to get off the subject," said Harry.  "You came off as rude.  I came off as an idiot.  Nothing Hermione isn't used to." 

"Are you saying that I'm rude?" 

"Ron, you aren't just rude, you are the epitome of rude.  I'm thicker than Crabbe and Goyle.  Poor Hermione.  I don't know how she puts up with us." 

"You aren't thicker than Crabbe and Goyle.  That's really stretching things." 

"It took me four years to realize that my attraction to guys made me gay." 

"That doesn't make you thick.  It means you were in denial." 

"It's all the same." 

"No, it's really not." 

"Fine.  I thought I fancied Cho once.  Took me a few years to even realize I was attracted to guys." 

"That's hormones.  Stop being so gloomy.  We're going back to Hogwarts.  That's always supposed to be a good thing for you.  Going home and all." 

"Going home.  Right.  Going back for seventh year is so promising that I can hardly contain myself.  Don't you get it, Ron?  This is seventh year -- our last year -- and every year so far has been building this tension . . . Things are going to be bad this year.  Can't you feel it?" 

"Why?  Because of You-Know-Who?" 

"Yes!  And would you just call him Voldemort?"  Harry dug his fingers into his scalp.  His gaze dropped to the floor.  "I'm sorry, Ron.  S'just I get so frustrated." 

"I know.  No harm done, no offense taken." 

Harry grinned, though it looked more like a grimace to Ron.  His bright green eyes faded as each year passed, with each time Voldemort came around again.  The way Harry had changed startled Ron.  He never expected it from his friend, and didn't know what to make of it.  Most of the time he just accepted it, filed it away for later.  Other times he pondered, and this turned out to be one of those times. 

No matter how many angles he looked at it from, Ron didn't know how to help Harry (in any sense of the word).  He wished he did, and watched with sadness as Harry found the chessboard and set up the pieces.  What was going on in Harry's mind?  How was Ron supposed to react to him?  Things weren't even comfortable anymore.  A strained silence hung in the air, and was still there when Hermione returned.  Pleasant small talk resumed, but Ron remained uneasy even when the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade. 

They unloaded their things, got in the carriages, and headed off for Hogwarts School.  Dumbledore pulled Harry and Hermione aside when they arrived, leaving Ron to attend the feast on his own.  He barely paid attention during the Sorting, and when Harry returned, listened to all the news about being Head Boy.  He would have to attend monthly meetings with the faculty, which Harry didn't seem at all excited about, counsel younger students, which Harry seemed terrified about, and serve as an example.  Ron thought he was more terrified about the last part than Harry was, and rightfully so.  That wasn't even to mention he got his own room.  If Ron had really thought about it, he would have worked harder on his schoolwork to get away from Seamus, the slob. 

Supper was fantastic, as it always was at the opening feast.  They complained about Snape being back, but rejoiced at his misfortune of missing out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position again.  Hermione reminded them it was their own choice to continue Potions after O.W.L.s.  Harry checked out the guys, giving his opinions and commentary to Ron in the lewdest fashion possible.  Ron would have been offended and annoyed if he wasn't so pleased that Harry was becoming more comfortable with what he affectionately called his "alternative lifestyle."  Toward the end, Harry started scouting for the Quidditch team this year, and proclaimed his position of captain to the entire Gryffindor table. 

The feast wrapped up, and Dumbledore stood to say his customary words.  He introduced Harry and Hermione as the Head Boy and Head Girl, which -- Ron saw from across the Hall -- made Malfoy glare and mutter to one of his goons.  A few of Zonko's (and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes) products were banned from Hogwarts.  The Forbidden Forest remained out of bounds for all students, as did Hogsmeade for students in their first and second years, or without permission slips.  The new Pureblood Ancestry and Mythology professor was introduced (Phoenix Valmont). 

Once Dumbledore finished, Harry and Hermione left to see their private rooms.  They would meet Ron in the common room later.  Gryffindor prefects guided the first years toward the seventh floor dormitory where Gryffindor Tower was.  Ron followed.  As he left the Hall, Malfoy made a snide comment about Ron being lost without Harry's shadow to wallow in.  Nothing Ron hadn't heard before. 

In favor of waiting for Harry and Hermione, Ron went up to the seventh year boys' dormitory.  His trunk sat at the end of his bed.  Four beds were in the dormitory in comparison to the customary five that Ron had gotten used to over the course of his years at school.  The room felt very empty with Harry gone, almost sad, and Ron climbed into bed.  His friends would have to see him in the morning. 

*

"What do we have today?" asked Harry.

It was breakfast time on the first day of lessons.  Harry was bent over a piece of parchment, scribbling what looked like either a Quidditch play or a plot against the Death Eaters.  Ron wanted to believe it was the former, but caught Harry making plans of attack in case of a siege during the last days of holiday.  Professor McGonagall handed out the timetables only moments before, which Hermione labored over. 

"Charms and History of Magic before lunch," said Hermione.  "I have Arithmancy after lunch." 

Harry groaned, and then lifted his eyes to find his timetable. 

"I've got Divination." 

"Prognostics," said Ron. 

"I still can't believe you're a Seer," said Hermione.  Her nose turned up, lips puckered. 

"Me, either." 

"I wish you were still in Divination with me," said Harry.  "Then again, it should be fun with you gone.  I'll just complain about how I miss you.  The look on Trelawney's face when I say your name should be priceless.  I heard that she wasn't even invited to take Prognostics.  She's probably bitter." 

"She isn't the only one.  Parvati glared at me all this morning in the common room and last night at dinner.  I think she's going to try and kill me." 

"At least you'd see it coming," said Harry, snickering.  Ron laughed with him.  "Do you know who you have?" 

"Professor Leiss.  It's on my timetable.  Dumbledore said something about a certified Seer working with the Aurors at the Ministry." 

"Those who can't do, teach.  Prime example:  Professor Trelawney." 

Hermione scoffed.  Harry and Ron glanced at her; she was adding to one of her Transfiguration essays. 

"Hermione, give it a break.  We don't have Transfiguration until --" Ron checked the timetable. "Thursday.  You still have two days to make corrections." 

"I know, but what if I don't have time?" 

Harry grabbed the essay from her, folded it, and stuck it in his bag. 

"You can have that back at the end of the school day." 

"Harry --"

"Listen, Mione, we're doing this for your own good.  One day, you'll thank me for this." 

The look Hermione gave Harry suggested that she would be committing homicide before thanking him.  Harry grinned (though not sheepish), and took a bite of toast before standing.  He indicated that Ron and Hermione should follow him. 

"We have class.  I hope you don't want to make last minute corrections on your Charms work." 

"Why?  Would you take that from me, too?" 

"No.  I'm fond of all my vital body parts, after all, and I don't think my limbs would remain in tact if I took something else from you, least of all something that you need for our first lesson.  No need to visit Madam Pomfrey my first real day back." 

"Good call, Harry," said Ron. 

"Thanks.  I thought so, too." 

"Come on.  We have lessons." 

Ron followed Harry and Hermione out of the Great Hall, headed in the direction of Gryffindor Tower to pick up his books.  Then it was off to Charms.  Maybe this wouldn't be a bad year after all.  Maybe Harry was wrong, and there would be no siege.  Still, there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind -- a flash that would drift across his eyes -- that told him differently.  Call it Seer intuition, if you will.  Ron didn't like the impression one bit.

  


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	3. The Art of the Keeper

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name:  AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary:  Ron meets his Prognostics professor and there is the first Pureblood Ancestry and Mythology class.**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. The plot, Ryan Alcor, Bade Mizar, Aleco, Hero Veriatice, Lorenzo Merak, and anyone else you may not recognize belong to me.  
  
CAUTION: This story contains SLASH. Slash indicates boys liking boys, boys dating boys, etc. If this is not your cup of tea, please click back on your browser. If this is what you were looking for, read on. You have been warned.  
  
ARCHIVE: If you would like to archive this story, please e-mail me first so that I may view your site. If I find this story listed without my permission, there will be hell to pay.**

**Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, and a thanks to those who read and don't leave reviews.  I know you're out there.**

**_Chapter Three:  The Art of the Keeper_**

"You must be Ron Weasley."

His first impression of his Advanced Prognostics professor was that she was short; Professor Leiss would come up to the middle of his chest if Ron were standing.  His second impression was that she had really amazing, large eyes of a startling grey-blue almost reminiscent of Malfoy's (though why Ron knew the exact color of Malfoy's eyes, he couldn't tell you).  They were the kind of eyes that Molly Weasley said could stare right into a person's soul, so Ron figured it was only fitting that she was a Seer.  Her dark hair was pulled into a sloppy bun, but she looked like she had taken a page out of Gilderoy Lockhart's book of fashion.  His third impression was that he really didn't know what to make of her.

"Yeah, that's me," said Ron after a long silence.  She laughed the kind of laugh his mother had.

"I'm Rebekah Leiss.  I think Dumbledore wants you to call me Professor Leiss, but if you want, Rebekah will do just fine.  I'm new to this teaching thing.  You're my first student, so I don't know if I'd even respond to Professor.  Make things a little easier on the both of us.  It's actually quite sad.  I can tell the history of a person just by touching them, but I can't remember things for a lick.  I should let you know, I have a tendency to talk a lot, so if I get annoying, just tell me to shut up."

"Can I do that?  I mean, you're my teacher."

"Oh, right.  It's disrespectful or some rot like that.  How am I supposed to know?  I'm barely out of school myself."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"And you're already an Auror with the Ministry?"

"Gods, no.  Who told you that?"

"Well, Dumbledore said that Prognostics was taught by a certified Seer who worked as an Auror with the Ministry, so I assumed --"

"Oh, right.  Well, like I said, I'm new.  The woman who used to teach the class retired, so here I am.  Actually, I'm new to the wizarding world all together.  Please bear with me.  I think you'll be teaching me more than I'm teaching you."

"You're new -- but you're a Seer.  I'm confused."

"I hear that's not much of a surprise.  I also hear I'm supposed to take points away from you without mercy, though that's not the point."

"Who did you hear that from?  Snape?"

"Professor Snape, and as a matter of fact, yes.  You see, I'm a Keeper."

"A Kee --"

"You do know what a Keeper is, don't you?"

Ron nodded.

"Sure, I do.  We had to do a paper on Keepers for Pureblood Ancestry over the summer holiday.  Supposed to keep order.  Have an incredibly high suicide rate."

"Being a Keeper is stressful.  You have no idea.  I've been doing this since I was twelve.  I'll tell you what, thought I was bloody crazy when the voices first popped into my head.  Then I learned it was telepathy."

"I thought Keepers were only supposed to get their powers when they're eighteen."

"We are," she said, arching an eyebrow.  "But we get our powers from our guardians, and we have a temperamental guardian who annoys everyone.  Because of this, another guardian decided to get back at him and make more work for him, so he gave us our powers too early.  Frankly, they can have them back."

"I may be wrong -- Keeper guardians are vampires, aren't they?"

"Yep.  Doesn't seem practical, does it?  Ah, well.  Malachai -- he's our guardian -- does an okay job, and the powers are pretty cool when you think about it.  But you get to be a Seer without being a Keeper."

"But you've been a Seer forever, and believe me, I didn't expect the gift of foresight to come to me."

"Yeah," she said, laughing, "I heard all about your antics in Divination from Professor Trelawney.  She kept trying to crystal gaze for me.  Eventually I told her that I'd crystal gaze for her.  That scared her off.  I think she was afraid I'd start talking about the grim, too, or something.  She kept telling me that I shouldn't expect much from you.  You're Inner Eye isn't properly developed, and your invitation must have been a hoax.  She sounded jealous to me."

"Okay, so I have a question."

"This doesn't relate to Seeing at all, does it?"

"Does it have to?"

"I'm supposed to be teaching you.  Then again, we have the whole year ahead of us.  One wasted class won't really hurt, will it?"

"I don't think so."

"Then shoot."

"If you're a Keeper, I thought they were all born to Muggle families and live in Muggle society.  I mean --"

"How did I end up teaching you?"

Ron hesitated.  "Yeah."

"Like I said, the last woman retired, and didn't want to teach.  They needed a certified Seer, and Severus -- that's Professor Snape to you -- recommended me to the headmaster.  I did have a little magical training with another girl in my circle at Coeur Noir, so I was accustomed to the atmosphere, and Severus knows me from a very young age.  There was this big Death Eater feast in which I was to be the main course, but Sev -- that guy's such an angel -- I'm sure you know he's a spy for our side.  He brought me back.  I don't why they wanted me.  Something to do with one of my past lives.  I don't know."

"Oh."

She laughed again at the sight of Ron's face, patted him on the shoulder, and smiled.

"Don't worry.  Everything will make sense in due time.  Now let's get down to business and talk about Seeing for a moment.  That is what this class is all about, and I assure you there will be no crystal balls or tea leaves.  I leave things like that to people like Sybil Trelawney, though we may practice a little Alectromancy just for fun.  I've always wanted to."

"Alectromancy?"

"Yeah.  It's this form of ancient Divination with roosters -- I'll explain later, but it's really humorous.  From what I've heard, you'll love it.  For now, we'll just start with recognizing visions, listening to your intuition, and dream interpretation.  Sounds easy enough, but we've got our work cut out for us.  And that text of yours?  Throw it out the window.  Or use it for a coaster.  I'd prefer the latter.  I hate water rings."

Ron just stared and nodded as Professor Leiss began discussing intuition and visions.

*

"How was Prognostics?" asked Hermione when Ron walked into the common room.  She and Harry were already back, which didn't surprise Ron because Professor Leiss's classroom was on the second floor and on the opposite side of school.  Hermione's Arithmancy textbook sat in her lap, and she pursed her lips together as she waited for an answer.  Harry almost burst as a large toothy grin set on his face.  Ron didn't know who to talk to first, but decided on Hermione since she had asked him a question.

"It was actually really great.  I thought my teacher would be someone who was certified Seer for having two or three visions in her time, but that old teacher retired.  Professor Leiss is a Keeper."

That perked Hermione's interest.

"Really?  An actual Keeper?  A Seer Keeper?"

"From what she told me."

"What circle is she from?  Maybe I read about her."

"I don't know.  I didn't ask.  What was I supposed to say?  'Professor Leiss, what circle are you from?  My friend Hermione is mad about Keepers and she'll want to research you.'  I'm sure she'd take to that real well."

"Didn't she tell you anything?"

"We were having class most of the time.  She kept insisting we stick to the lesson.  I've heard more about feeling, intuition, and perception than I ever thought I would.  And it's only the first day of lessons.  But she's smart.  Funny, too.  Actually, she reminds me of my mum."

"Your mum is the best," said Harry.  "Guess what happened in Divination."

"What?"

"Shouldn't you know?  You're a Seer."

"Not a good one.  Tell me."

"Fine.  Trelawney spent half the class killing me off.  We're starting to work on Cartomancy.  She insists I'm going to die a slow and painful death.  Then, she shrieked, and claimed she had seen your death, and the death of your Prognostics teacher.  Sorry, mate.  You're going to be trampled by hippogriffs, bludgeoned by house elves, and then drowned by the merpeople.  Her shine to us from fifth year seems to be wearing off."

"I can hardly wait.  When should I look forward to this?"

"Don't know.  Probably after I die.  So, you know, in the next two hundred years."

"Excellent.  Least Firenze isn't telling you that Mars looks bright tonight."

Hermione rolled her eyes, closed her text, and laid it aside.  Ron got the feeling that one of her lectures about taking a practical class like Arithmancy was coming on.  He made for the portrait hole before she could even get started on it.  Prognostics was a practical, worthwhile class.  This wasn't a speech that he should have to listen to anymore.  In the distance, Ron heard Harry receiving the brunt of Hermione's wrath.  It was cruel to do, but Ron was into saving his own arse.  Harry did well enough on his own.

*

Second day back at Hogwarts marked a return of Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and the first of Pureblood Ancestry.  Harry referred to this as the day from Malfoy Hell, because it was when they walked into Pureblood Ancestry that they realized Malfoy graced three-fourths of their classes every Wednesday with his ever-shining presence.

Care of Magical Creatures had been somewhat pleasant.  Hagrid was working the Ministry for a dragon (for class purposes, of course).  In the meantime, he acquired jarveys, ferret-like animals with the ability to speak, though they said little more than insults.  This was, without a doubt, Ron's kind of animal, especially since Malfoy's seemed to have the rudest things to say about him.  There's nothing quite like watching Malfoy argue with a jarvey and try to make it somewhat intelligent.  Ron almost pitied Malfoy.  He pitied the jarvey more.

Defense Against the Dark Arts went above and beyond Ron's expectations.  This lesson was always frightening to walk into.  From first year through sixth, they had seven different teachers.  Quirrel died, Lockhart was in St. Mungo's, Lupin resigned, Moody wasn't Moody, Umbridge was from Hell, and in sixth year, Brewer ran off by Halloween, crying.  Professor Monroe, who only filled in as a favor and refused to stay for more than a year, replaced her.This year looked a little better than last, especially with the new teacher, who would have been an Auror if not for a Quidditch accident, by the name of Professor Marcositi.

Potions was the same as always, though Ron couldn't help but look at Snape and think of him associating with Professor Leiss.  It was hard to believe.  Malfoy was in his element once again after his embarrassing quarrel with the jarveys that morning.  Being in his element meant he was an insufferable prick.  Ron was nauseated just by being in his presence, and welcomed the end of class, especially after Malfoy managed to perfectly brew his potion, which Snape made a point to announce to the class.

The last lesson of that day was the one that Ron had looked most forward to and most dreaded.  Pureblood Ancestry and Mythology was taught on the third floor of the castle, and Professor Valmont was already seated at his desk when Ron, Harry, and Hermione arrived.  His thin, wire-frame glasses were balanced on the bridge of his nose as his head tilted down, his golden blond hair falling into his eyes.  He made a note with his quill in the text he was reading, and snapped the book shut.

Malfoy walked in at that time, sneering at the Gryffindors, and made his way over to them.  Crabbe and Goyle loomed behind him like they often did.  Pansy Parkinson and two Slytherin girls passed him on their way to sit with Blaise Zabini.

"Granger," said Malfoy, "glad to see you here.  It's about time you take a proper subject.  Pay attention, you might actually learn something worthwhile.  My father says this is the only class worth anything at this school.  Finally realized what a disgrace it is to be a Mudblood?"

"Malfoy," said Harry, reaching for his wand.  Ron closed his fingers around his own.

"Mister Malfoy," said Professor Valmont.  His jaw was set, his lips pressed into a thin line.  Ron was reminded of Professor McGonagall.  "Language like that will not be permitted in this classroom.  You will take your seat and refrain from using such vulgarity in the future.  Is that understood?"

Malfoy's pale face brightened to a pale shade of pink.  His small lips hung open.  Professor Valmont narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Mister Malfoy, we don't have all day.  Take your seat.  And if I hear you using that word again, you will be removed from this class."

Malfoy muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.  Professor Valmont coughed, covering his mouth with his palm, and Ron suspected he was hiding a smile.

"Idle threats, Mister Malfoy, especially after what happened to your father several years ago.  I believe he was in Azkaban, wasn't he?  Language like that could get you expelled from this class and that would disappoint your father something dreadful.  Wouldn't you agree?"  Valmont smirked.  "Take your seat."

Ron grinned as Malfoy slunk to his seat.  Ahead, Crabbe and Goyle sat several moments ago when Professor Valmont first instructed them to do so.  This class might be better than anticipated.  After shuffling through papers and stacking them into an organized disorder, Professor Valmont took role.  It pleased Ron that he barely batted an eye when reading Harry's name.

"To start things off," said Professor Valmont, "I want you to hand in your summer assignment.  Just bring them up here and set them in a pile."

There was a minor frenzy at the request.  Ron wound through the students toward the front.  He placed his essay on top of Harry's, which looked like little more than chicken scratch.  It amused Ron, and he hoped that Hermione hadn't seen that mess of a paper.  She'd never let Harry hear the end of it.

"Let's start with introductions and a few simple rules before I move on to what you should expect this year.  I'm Professor Valmont.  I'll do my best to remember your names as well.  I attended school here seven years ago, and then went on to achieve my Masters in Potions and Herbology.  Ministry work is boring, so I'm back here to teach.  Any further questions you have can be directed to me after class, or you can ask around.  You'll be sure to find that I have quite a reputation at this school.  Peeves would probably be your best shot.

"Now, for the really important stuff.  I'm a fairly amiable person.  This means I am not difficult to get along with, just don't make me be your babysitter.  Follow my rules, and we'll have no problems.  I don't ask for much.  The first, and most important, is that you respect me and each other."  Professor Valmont's eyes fell to Malfoy, and he arched his eyebrow.  "I want you to treat your peers just as you would want to be treated.  Trite, I know, but necessary for a pleasant year.  I have very little tolerance for fighting and disrespect.

"Second, come prepared to every class.  This means mentally and physically.  If you show up without parchment and quill on a day when I specifically tell you that we'll be taking notes, I am not going to be in a great mood.  Most of our classes will be discussions, so I want you to come prepared to participate.  Never walk in this classroom thinking about anything other than what is going on in here today.  If you think your robes are last season or you forgot to do you Transfiguration work, worry about it somewhere else."

Hermione's eyes brightened and she propped her chin up by her palm.  A dreamy look drifted into her eyes.  This was the kind of teacher she appreciated.  Ron would be worried but he already knew a lot of the course material.

The class watched in silence, listening to his every word as he detailed what they would cover in lessons this year.  Like Snape and McGonagall, Professor Valmont held them captive without trying.  Ron supposed this had a lot to do with his charming looks for the girls.  The male population admired him for first telling off Malfoy in the most polite way possible, then for talking to them on the level of an equal.  Even after six years, McGonagall still acted like she was teaching eleven-year-old children.  It was refreshing to be treated like the adults they almost were.

"Since your essays over the summer holiday were on Keepers, I propose we start there.  Like I said, most of these classes are going to be discussions.  I'd like you to take notes on these discussions, but it isn't a requirement.  So -- let's open up discussion.  The Keeper.  We'll cover the basics.  How many people in a Keeper circle?"

Hermione raised her hand among several others.  Professor Valmont chuckled, shaking his head.

"I said this was a discussion.  Just blurt it out."

"Thirteen," said various voices around the room.  Professor Valmont nodded.

"Right.  Thirteen in a circle.  You may have remembered reading these circles were called Arcanas.  A Keeper Arcana is created when troubles in the world -- muggle and magical alike -- increase.  Each individual pattern varies, but the base is always the same.  There are seven powers a Keeper specializes in.  Can anyone name them?"

"I can," said Hermione.  She looked very small without her arm waving in the air.  Professor Valmont motioned for her to continue.  "There's shape-shifting, time, pyrokinesis, precognition, telekinesis, healing, and switching."

"Exactly.  For six of the seven powers, telekinesis being the solitary power, two of the Arcana specialize.  This, in more laymen terms, means that a male and a female from the Arcana will have precognition or time or any of the other powers but telekinesis.

"Let's discuss powers individually.  Switching.  This goes by several names, but for the purpose of our class, we'll be referring to the simple term of switching.  Astral projection and possession are included in this category.  It's the power to swap souls with bodies.  Let's say, for example, I was a Keeper specialized in switching.  By simply the power of my mind, I could switch with any one of you.  I would be in your body, and you would be in mine.  Are we on the same page so far?"

A sea of heads bobbed in collective nods.  Professor Valmont grinned.

"Right, then.  The only power against a Switcher is Occlumancy, the power to shut off your mind from such an attack.  Very powerful Keepers who practice this for a long time may be able to break down a weak protective barrier, but a strong practitioner should be safe.  It's all dependent on the power of wills.

"Second power, healing, is basic.  It's their equivalent of our Healers.  The biggest difference is that they don't need wands and potions to do what they do.  It's born into them.  That's the biggest difference between a Keeper and a wizard.  We need wands to control our magic.  Wandless magic is possible, but it's difficult to do at all, much less to control.  Keepers are born with the ability to control it.

"The healing powers of a Keeper are fairly basic, and very limited.  They are unable to heal themselves, or anything that wasn't once human.  Neither can they bring the dead back to life.  Resurrection is a power still unattainable by most means of magic, no matter who you are.  Life threatening illnesses, such as poisons and cancers, a disease more commonly found in Muggles, are often incurable.  It all depends on the severity.

"Shape-shifting is like Transfiguration, once again with wandless magic.  The exact principles of this power are gender-based.  The male can change objects, while the female can change herself.  This act of magic is called Glamour.  The features don't actually change, but to the untrained eye, they appear as if they have.  Glamours used to be a trick used by murderers and wanted men trying to escape prosecution.  It's still used sometimes, but not as often anymore.  A convincing shape-shift is very difficult, and few people can do it without being born a Keeper.  A case of this in our community is animagi or metamorphmagi."

"Because that's a difficult task to perform," said Pansy.  Professor Valmont nodded.  "So is it different for us, then?  Because we aren't Keepers, we aren't gender-based?"

"That's right.  Powers are only gender-based for Keepers.  The male and female of a specific power complete each other.  It's part of what ties the circle together.  The other half isn't needed, but it's ideal.

"Moving on to time.  This is a very rare gift even in the wizarding world, which is part of what makes the Keeper so unique.  They have the power to affect time by speeding it up, slowing it down, or stopping it all together.  A talented person with this gift can learn to go so far as stopping all time around them, but channel their energy to unfreeze something as small as an insect.

"Pyrokinesis, or the ability to conjure fire, is one the deadliest powers when misused or misdirected.  This power is essentially the same for the male as it is for the female with the exception of the ability to hold specific fires.  Like the many flame charms we have, there are many different kinds of fires and explosions that can be created by the Keepers.

"Precognition would be better known to most of you as Seers.  This is the one power where the biggest difference between males and females arise.  A male Keeper will rely stronger on his sense of sight, while the female will rely on feeling and intuition.  This is also the only Keeper power that has no base with the physical body.  There's also two more traits unique to a Keeper Seer.  Can anyone name one?"

"Occlumancy," said Harry.  Ron grinned as did Valmont.  "Keeper Seers are born with a natural shield around their minds.  Switchers can't get in all the way even when the Seer is completely open." 

"Very good.  Five points to Gryffindor.  Can anyone name the other?"

"Control," said Hermione.  Harry glanced to her, brows knit.  He looked as confused as Ron felt.  A smile formed on Professor Valmont's face, and he nodded.

"Excellent."  He glanced to his seating chart.  "Miss Granger, isn't it?"  Hermione nodded.  "Well done.  Take five points for Gryffindor.  Why don't you explain further?"

"Because Seers have no root to the physical body, they're highly in tuned with the mind.  They have a dormant ability that can be tapped into -- though it rarely happens -- that enables them to control souls, spirits, basically anything that isn't a physical being."

"Can you explain what you mean when you say control?  Pretend as if I'm a five-year-old.  I don't understand what you mean by that word.  What does it mean?"

"Well, it can con -"  Hermione blushed, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.  "It can make souls do whatever it wants them to.  Usually, when a Seer does obtain this power, they obtain permission before they do anything to a soul.  Sometimes, however, they don't."

"What kind of things?" asked Harry.

"That's a very good question.  Anyone other than Miss Granger know the answer?"  Professor Valmont grinned.  "Mister Malfoy?"

"The possibilities are endless," said Malfoy.  "Torture, kill, heal, bind . . ."

Ron stared, but the colors swarmed.  He heard a sort of clicking in the back of his head that turned into a nagging buzz.  It was trying to tell him something, but Ron tried to swat it away.  Still, there remained the eerie sense that this was all too familiar.  Probably something Hermione told me, he thought.  She must have read something about it years ago, and now I'm just remembering it.

A discussion started on the most interesting and little known facts of the Keepers, one in which he could often hear Hermione's voice sounding above the others.  Ron remained silent.  He noticed that he wasn't the only one; Harry, Malfoy, and Blaise Zabini weren't paying much attention to the lecture, either.  Considering Malfoy's earlier incident, he really should be.  Harry rubbed at his eyes, fighting back an annoyance similar to Ron's.  Maybe something was going around the school already.  Ron hoped not.  It was too soon to be getting sick.

**I will update every Tuesday afternoon. Check back then or email me at AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com to receive messages on updates.**

**Please Review.  It's proven beneficial to your health.******


	4. Quidditch and Visions

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title:  The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Wherein Harry's audition Beaters for the Gyffindor team, and Ron's getting snogged by boys.**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. The plot, Ryan Alcor, Bade Mizar, Aleco, Hero Veriatice, Lorenzo Merak, and anyone else you may not recognize belong to me.  
  
CAUTION: This story contains SLASH. Slash indicates boys liking boys, boys dating boys, etc. If this is not your cup of tea, please click back on your browser. If this is what you were looking for, read on. You have been warned.  
  
ARCHIVE: If you would like to archive this story, please e-mail me first so that I may view your site. If I find this story listed without my permission, there will be hell to pay.**

**Thank you to everyone who's reading and reviewing.  Your feedback is what I thrive on.******

**_Chapter Four:  Quidditch and Visions_**

By the second week of school, Harry forgot his worries of a school siege.  Quidditch occupied every corner of his mind.  Hermione spent most afternoons and evenings in the library working on school assignments and getting a jump-start for her N.E.W.T.s.  Harry became a workaholic, and dragged Ron along for the ride.  After losing the Beaters who replaced Fred and George, Harry needed to find new players.  Ron sympathized.  It was the only thing keeping Harry sane these days.

Tryouts for the open position and for reserve positions took place on the thirteenth of September, the second Saturday back at Hogwarts.  Ron crawled out of bed when it was still dark outside (after giving Harry the finger and mumbling words that would have shocked Mrs. Weasley), and followed Harry out of the dormitory.  Three sleepy Quidditch players met them on the field for a quick practice before the potentials arrived (Harry forgot to mention that they wouldn't be arriving until after breakfast -- oops).

"Harry, can't we at least go to breakfast?" asked Jenna Pinchot, a Chaser.  "I'm going to pass out if I don't get something to eat."

"We're supposed to be practicing.  We need to look professional for the potentials."

"We practiced," said Ron, hanging on his broom.  The morning sun rose into the sky, peeking over the horizon.  It bounced off the bright copper hair, looking like a beacon in the faded light of dawn.  "Honestly.  I'm hungry, too.  We won't make much of an impression if we're fainting, especially me.  I'm supposed to be defending the hoops.  The Chasers are going to kill me."

"If we don't faint first," said Jenna.  "The players trying out better be good.  I don't want to get killed with a Bludger this early in the morning.  Then again . . . If I was in the hospital wing, would it get me out of Quidditch practices?"

"Very funny," said Harry.  He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow.  "If you're really that hungry, then go eat.  I'm not going to stop you.  I'm a bit hungry myself."

"Our King is hungry?" said Ron.  He threw his hand over his forehead, and fell forward on his broom.

"I thought Weasley was our King," said Jenna.  Ron didn't notice.

"You've got to be joking!  Harry?  Taking a break from practice?  Someone pinch me!"

"I'd like to do loads more than pinch you," said Harry.  "Stop being such a sod and get down here."

"What if I don't want to?"

Ron cracked open an eye to catch Harry's reaction.  Harry grinned.

"You'll be doing laps until dusk."

"I'm coming, I'm coming.  Don't say things like that.  I know you're cruel, Harry, but even you aren't that cruel."

"Don't be so sure."

"Right, right."

Ron drifted to the ground, as did the other members on the team.  They hurried off their brooms and in the direction of the castle before Harry could change his mind.  Harry ran to catch up with Ron, and they entered the Great Hall together.  Few students sat there, scattered across the room.  People trying out for the Quidditch team and players already on the team made up the majority seated at the Gryffindor table.  Everyone else there was either crazy, an insomniac, or a freak.  Malfoy, who was sitting by himself at Slytherin, fell into that last category.

"Harry, we better rush to get a seat before they're all taken.  You know how many people like to crawl out of bed at this ungodly hour."

"I like to get a head start on these kinds of things."

"Head start?  Harry, if you started any sooner, we'd be picking the team for next year."

"This is my last year as captain and I want to have the best team possible.  No way am I losing to Malfoy in my seventh year."

"I'm not suggesting that we do.  You really think I want to lose to Malfoy?  Just suggesting that you look into this thing called sleep.  It's great fun, and quite beneficial."

"You know why I don't sleep."

"Harry --"

"I don't want to talk about it, Ron."

Ron opened his mouth to reply but froze.  Harry shot him one of the coldest glares that he had ever been on the receiving end, and not just from Harry, either.  He shut his mouth again and nodded, resisted the urge to throw his arms around his friend right there.  It came out of nowhere, but Ron had the distinct impression that Harry needed a hug.  Something that Professor Leiss would call Seer Intuition.  Just like that, with capital letters and everything.  He settled for grabbing Harry's wrist and giving it a squeeze.

"What was that for?"

"Dunno.  Thought you looked like you needed it."

Harry didn't thank him, didn't even reply.  Ron didn't need him to.  It was there in the way he grinned, and the way he walked to the table.  Hermione wasn't there yet; she was probably still in bed like Ron wished he were.  He didn't eat much for fear that he would get sick to his stomach during Harry's rigorous practice; just toast and tea for Ron, thanks.

Malfoy remained by himself during the entire meal, even when Crabbe and Goyle entered the Hall.  They sat on the same side of the table as he did, only a few meters down, but they didn't dare get closer.  He ate very little, no more than a slice of toast, but didn't leave the table.  Ron wanted to walk over there and taunt him like he often endured when Ron ate alone at meals.  He would have done so if it wasn't for Harry, rushing everyone back out to the Quidditch pitch.  One last look at the aloof Malfoy, and Ron was back out of the Great Hall.  Not once did Malfoy look up from the Slytherin table.

Tryouts were annoying.  There was no other way to phrase it.  Harry instructed Ron, Jenna, and the other Chasers -- Carrie Stone and Bryce Lachance -- to fly around the pitch as if in a real game, while the people trying out took the Beater position.  A Bludger almost hit Carrie in the first round; Ron had a very near shave in the second.

"My name's Jessica Deaver," said one girl with bright blonde hair tied into pigtails.  She clutched her broom in one hand, and stared at the club Harry handed to her.  "What's that for?"

"Quidditch?" asked another, a first year boy with a bad complexion.  "I thought we were playing football."

"What do you mean I need my own broom?" asked a third, a very tall girl with her mouse brown hair pulled into a ponytail.  For one terrifying moment, Ron thought she was going to beat Harry with that old school broom.

"You won't ever get to the Bludgers fast enough on that thing," said Harry, looking at the Shooting Star.  Ron wanted to laugh at his expression.

"Fine," she said.  Then she grabbed Harry's broom.  "I'll just use this for tryouts until I get my own."  Without waiting for a reply, she snatched the club out of Harry's hand and took off.  Ten minutes later, she was on the Quidditch team.  Harry demanded his broom back if she wanted to keep the position.  She obliged.

"I think the entire population of Gryffindor idiots came out this morning," said Harry when the last boy walked off the pitch.  His name was Jeffrey Machara, but he could have passed for a Gilderoy Lockhart.  When he wasn't performing spectacular falls off his flashy broom (a new model of the Comet, a pathetic rip off of the Firebolt), he told boastful stories about narrowly avoiding Muggles in his early adventures of flying.  He reminded Ron of Malfoy.

"Well, Harry, this is what happens when you have practice at this time of day.  You get all the crazies, and the ones who aren't nuts are flakes."

"Tell me about it.  While you were hiding from Jeffrey, one girl asked me why we don't just play without the Bludgers."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah.  I told her the positions were filled already and to try back next year."  Ron snickered.  "We still have three more people.  Let's hope one of them knows how to hit a Bludger, and why we don't just remove them from the game."

"She may as well have asked you why we need the Snitch at all."

"Sacrilege!  Don't even joke about that, Ron."

"Sorry, mate."

Ron grinned.

"Get back on your broom and defend your hoops."

"Defend this," said Ron, extending his middle finger in Harry's direction for the second time that morning.  Harry rolled his eyes as Ron climbed back on his broom and headed for the goal posts.

"Defend this," said Harry, shaking his head.  He glanced over at the three people waiting to try out.  "Next two.  Names?"

"Rachel Snow," said the first.  Her dark hair hung around her shoulders, reminding Ron of Cho Chang.  That sparked memories of Harry's less than lukewarm crush on said girl, which went on to remind him of why Harry's feelings were so dull.  That led to their pathetic excuse for a date in fifth year and mistletoe.  It was kind of gross.

"Jimmy Tice," said the boy.  Harry nodded, made a note, and then motioned for them to join the team.  He released the Bludgers, and their game began.

The last three players were much better than the first lot; had more common sense, too.  Ron figured this had a lot to do with the time they arrived, because only psychotics would show up at the beginning of Harry's three-hour-long tryout session.  In the end, Jimmy Tice became the second Beater on the Gryffindor team.  Harry dismissed them soon after.  Dismounting his broom, Ron hurried to change out of his Quidditch robes.  There was no way he'd get back on a broom today.

*

Fire engulfed the entire scene.  Ron could barely see through the smoke.  His head pounded as he made his way farther up the mountain and his legs ached, begging to buckle beneath him. 

"It won't be much longer."

Ron didn't know where the voice came from.  Somewhere up ahead.  It was hard to differentiate amongst all the screaming from below.  He fell forward, collapsed on rock, and vomited.  Sweat dripped from his brow.

"Ryan."

It was the sweetest, softest voice Ron thought he had ever heard -- a low tenor that resonated in his ears.  Arms pulled at him, but Ron couldn't move.  Too much pain shot through his body.

"He isn't going anywhere," said the voice.  "I think -- I think he's dying."

"He isn't supposed to die yet," said a new voice, also male.

"I warned you.  You're going to have to carry him," said the first voice.  "He can't die before the bind.  Hurry.  There isn't much time."

"Lorenzo, help me get him up."

A second set of arms surrounded him, and then Ron was carried through the haze.  That sweet voice was whispering to him, but Ron couldn't decipher what was said.  A hand ran over his dampened forehead.  Shift in footing told him that they had reached level ground, and then he lay on stone again.

"It's almost over, love.  Hold on just a little longer."

Ron wanted to reply, opened his mouth to do so, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper.  Lips covered his for a brief moment.  The surprise that Ron would have expected didn't come, only trust and understanding.  A hand slipped into his, and Ron fought to wrap his fingers around the man's.

"Hero, take his other hand.  You need to form a circle."

The first voice again, a high soprano.   Her consonants were sharp and urgent, and they scared Ron more than the screams from below.  A second hand, slender and female, slipped into his other hand.  Despite the urgency, the fire, the haze, in that circle, Ron felt safe.  A woman moved to the center and started to speak in Latin.  Ron recognized her face, but couldn't place it to a name.  He struggled, and it was almost there, but then he was slipping . . .

*

"Ron!" 

Harry's face swam into view, replacing the last.  Ron blinked several times before he noticed the headache pounding in his ears.  His face felt hot, almost as if it were burning, and when he parted his lips, the air he sucked in felt icy to his throat.

"Ron?" said Harry.  "Are you okay?"

"What just happened?"

"I don't know.  Hermione and I just got back from our meeting with the faculty and prefects.  When we got here, you were just sitting here and . . . I don't know, Ron.  It was really scary.  You were just sitting there staring off into space.  We kept trying to talk to you but you didn't answer."

Ron glanced to Harry's right and noticed Hermione sitting there, watching him.  Her lips were pulled into a frown, and her fingers ran through the unruly curls in her hair.  He gave her the best smile he could form when feeling so drained.  The smile he got back was just as weak, maybe weaker.

"Are you all right?  We were really worried.  I thought maybe we should go to Professor McGonagall, but then you came around."

"What happened?"

"I think I just had a vision," said Ron, moving his fingers to his temples.  "Shit, that hurts.  Professor Leiss didn't tell me it was going to hurt."

"Do you need to go to Madam Pomfrey?  We can help you there if you need it," said Hermione.

"I'm okay.  Really.  What happened at your meeting?"

Hermione frowned, and then glanced at Harry.  He shrugged.

"Well, we talked about some things we could do this year to lighten the mood since Voldemort is still at large.  First Hogsmeade weekend is in two weeks.  Are you sure you're okay?"

Ron laughed.  "Positive.  Just a vision.  I'm going to have to get used to it is all."

"You aren't the only one.  You scared us half to death."

"Sorry about that, Hermione.  Didn't mean to.  Scared myself."

"Oh, Ron --"

"Don't get like that.  It's only going to scare me.  Come on now.  What about a Hogsmeade visit?"

"In two weeks," said Harry.  "Should be fun.  I mean, the village is getting tired, but it'll be something to do.  What do you say?  Want to go?"

"Sure.  Sounds good."

*

For several days after the vision, Ron thought of it alone.  He had never had a vision that was so powerful before.  It seemed like it was really happening.  Ron could still smell the fire and taste the smoke that surrounded him.  When he had Advanced Prognostics the next Tuesday, he stared at Professor Leiss while she discussed Freud, Jung, and lucid dreaming.

"Personally, I'm keen on Jung, but that's the kind of decision every person has to make," said Professor Leiss.  Ron nodded.

"I had a vision on Saturday."

"Sorry?"

"On Saturday.  I had this vision . . . I can't explain it.  It was so real.  They've never been like that before.  The smells, the tastes -- they were all there.  They're still there."

"You're developing," she said, grinning.  "Now, Ron, tell me, what happened in this vision?"

"I'm not sure what was happening.  There were five of us.  Two girls, two guys, and me.  One of the girls was leading us somewhere.  Up a mountain, I think.  There was all this fire and smoke.  People were screaming.  I remember that part because it scared me.  And one of the guys . . ."  Ron ducked his head, avoiding her eyes.  "He had to carry me because I couldn't walk anymore.  And he -- he kissed me.  Is that some kind of subconscious message?"

"It's a vision, Ron.  Visions are things that already happened or will happen.  They aren't subconscious messages, and I'm not Freud."

Ron's cheeks heated up, and he turned his head away from her.

"What does it mean then?  Because -- I don't know.  I've never really thought I was gay, but I wasn't bothered by it, either.  It felt -- I don't want to say nice.  Something else."

"It could be several things.  In this vision, when you say you, were you yourself or were you seeing through someone else, because that would explain a lot?"

"That's the weird thing.  I felt like myself.  I've had visions before where I was someone else.  Most of them last year were like that.  But this one . . . I'm not sure.  The guy, the one who kissed me, he called me Ryan.  It felt like my name, and it felt like me . . . I could have heard it wrong.  I don't know."

Professor Leiss frowned, rubbing at her bottom lip with the pad of her thumb.

"That's strange.  When I went through training with Malachai, Holden, he's my other Seer, and I learned how to differentiate between the two -- knowing if it's you or someone else.  We didn't have many visions like you've described, but when we did . . . those are usually past or future life associations.  The thing is -"

"I thought wizards were single natured."

"Exactly.  Wizards _are single natured.  They don't go through reincarnation, and the only people that do are Keepers.  Wizards who do go through reincarnation do so only because a Keeper binds them.  It's a complicated process.  Not a lot of people want to go through it.  And binds are only done in times where it's necessary."_

"So you're just as confused as I am."

"I'll look into it."

*

The first Hogsmeade weekend planned by Harry, Hermione, and the school prefects was nothing short of a success.  Students appreciated the break at the end of September just as much as the teachers did.  Ron visited Honeydukes to refill his supply of sweets and sugar quills, Hermione stopped by a bookstore to check out the latest merchandise, and Harry dropped in Gladrags to pick up a present for Dobby.  Sometimes Ron thought Dobby got more appreciation from Harry than anyone else in the world.  It might not be a far stretch from the truth.

They sat in the Three Broomsticks drinking butterbeer when three o'clock rolled around.  Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Valmont sat at a table nearby, laughing and drinking.

"You haven't changed a bit," said McGonagall, smiling at Professor Valmont.  "Still the same old Phoenix."

"Crazy as a nuthouse," said Professor Flitwick, winking.

"Everyone always says that.  If I had a knut for every time someone told me I bordered the line between genius and insanity, I wouldn't have to work with you," said Professor Valmont. 

"But then you would miss the opportunity to spend afternoon tea with myself and Severus," said Professor Dumbledore.

"And what would Sev do without me?"

"He is an unusual sort, isn't he?" said Harry.

"Who?  Professor Valmont?"

"Yeah.  He's a great teacher, though.  Reminds me of Lupin."

"Lupin was a great teacher," said Ron.  "Miss him in Defense, but Professor Marcositi isn't bad, either.  She knows what she's doing."

"I'm just glad we don't have a repeat Lockhart performance."

"Or Brewer.  Woman was sexy but didn't know a bloody thing.  Only reason I passed was because I didn't want to miss a lesson of staring at her."

"You're disgusting," said Hermione.

"I'm allowed to be disgusting.  I'm a guy."

"Just because you're a guy does not mean you can be disgusting."

"But that's what you women always say.  'Oh, of course he's disgusting.  He's a guy.' "

"That doesn't mean that it's your right to be disgusting."

"I never said it was a right.  I said it was allowed."

"Are the Mudblood bitch and the Weasley pauper having a lover's spat?"

Ron turned to look at Malfoy, standing by their table.  His white blond hair laid slicked back in the usual perfection, his robes without a single wrinkle.  When someone paid that much attention to their appearance, it made Ron sick.  He decided not to reply and went back to sipping his butterbeer.

"Weasley, are you sure you should be drinking that?  You won't be able to eat for a whole month if you do.  Here."  Malfoy reached around in one of his pockets and dropped a Galleon on the table.  "Now you won't go hungry.  Don't spend it all in one place.  You'll need some left over to buy yourself a clue."

"You think that one up all on your own?" said Ron.

"Don't you have someone else to torture?" said Harry.

"I'm good right here, thanks.  How about you, Granger?  Need to buy yourself some Mudblood disinfectant?  Just let me know the price.  I can afford the charity if it means the world will be free of your filth."

"Say it again, Malfoy," said Ron.  He stood from his chair, and pulled his wand from his robes.  Malfoy cocked his head to the side; his lips remained expressionless.  "Just give me a reason to and I'll do it.  Just tempt me."

"Weasley, you really should do something about that temper.  It isn't flattering."

"Take back what you said about Hermione."

"Ron --" said Hermione.

"No."

"Malfoy --"

"No.  I'm not taking back anything I said about that thing.  I'm not going to take back the truth."

"Is there a problem here?" said Professor Valmont.  He walked up behind Malfoy and smiled at them.  Malfoy shook his head.

"No problem at all, Professor.  Just saying hello to Granger and Weasley."

"That's what I thought.  You were respectful, too, weren't you?"

"Of course."

Professor Valmont didn't move, and Malfoy squirmed under the scrutiny.  It made Ron feel better than he thought it would, watching Malfoy cave to the pressure.  After several moments, Malfoy realized that Professor Valmont wasn't leaving, and he mumbled goodbye before heading back to where Crabbe and Goyle were.  Before turning, Professor Valmont winked at them, and then he returned to the other teachers.

Ron watched as Professor Valmont sat.  Dumbledore smiled at him, as were McGonagall and Flitwick.

"You handled that nicely, Phoenix," said Professor McGonagall.

"Someone should kick that kid in the arse.  I asked Sev if I could.  He gave me some rot about Hogwarts not endorsing corporal punishment.  I don't see why not.  It should be my right.  I'm offended that it's been taken from me."  Professor Valmont paused, turning his attention to Dumbledore.  "Albus, are you all right?"

Dumbledore seemed to have fallen asleep at the table.  Harry snickered about Dumbledore getting on in years, and Ron hoped Malfoy didn't see it.  He'd be writing home to his father right away about how Dumbledore couldn't even stay awake for butterbeer anymore, not that it would mean anything.  The summer after fifth year, Lucius Malfoy lost most of his power in the wizarding world when he went to Azkaban for a total of two days before the Dementors released him.  Moments later, Dumbledore's eyes cracked open, his hands going to his head.

"Albus?"

"Eh -- Phoenix?"

"Albus?  Are you all right?"

"I'm fine.  Feeling a little under the weather."  He glanced around.  "I think I'll be getting back to the school.  I'd like to get some rest before dinner tonight, and perhaps Poppy will have something for my head."

"Do take care," said Professor McGonagall.

"I hope he's okay," said Hermione.

"He seems fine to me.  Like he said, probably not feeling well.  Flu or something," said Harry.  "I wouldn't be worried.  Dumbledore is human, you know.  He gets sick just like the rest of us."

"I know that."

"Maybe we should be heading back to school ourselves," said Ron, "before Malfoy decides to pay us another visit."

"Not a bad idea," said Harry.

They finished their butterbeers and left the Three Broomsticks.  Ron connected eyes with Malfoy on his way out, frowning at the way the boy watched his every move.  Confusion played on Malfoy's features from his knit brow to the slight part in his pale, pink lips.  Malfoy wasn't the only one who was confused.

Six nights later, Ron woke to a scream so loud his own throat was felt raw.

**As per usual, updates every Tuesday afternoon.  Check back then.**

**Let me know if you're enjoying the story, and let me know if you aren't.  Try to be constructive.  Saying "Update soon" will not make Tuesday come any faster. **


	5. Taken By the Enemy

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name:  AndromedanQueen**

**Title:  The Prophecy of Absconditus **

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating:  R**

**Caution:  Boy on boy action.  If this is not your cup of tea, please click back now.  If you've come this far and still haven't gotten it, I will mock you mercilessly, and so will the reviewers.**

**Disclaimer:  This story contains situations, characters, locations, ect., that are not of my own creation, but belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Scholastic, ****Bloomsbury****, and others with pieces of the Harry Potter pie.  I do not have any of those pieces.  I am a poor community college student.  The plot, Alecto, Ryan, Bade, Hero, Lorenzo, Absconditus, ect., are all of my own creation, and I do own the entire pie.  Please be advised.**

**Archive:  Yes, please, but let me know where my story is going first.  Sharing is caring.**

**_Chapter Five:  Taken By the Enemy_**

The scream pierced the darkness, and pulled Ron from his sleep.  He blinked, willing his eyes to adjust.  Shadows in shades of black and grey bounced before his eyes.  He felt his pupils grow, eclipsing blue.  The screaming continued, and Ron ripped back his curtains in hopes of finding the source.  He stumbled out of bed, and ran into another body shuffling across the room.  They fell to the floor, entangled.

"Ron?"

"Seamus?"

"What is that noise?  Is that you?"

Ron arched an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side.  Dark grey planes filled in Seamus's features with help from the moonlight that streamed into the dormitory.  Seamus took in Ron's expression, shrugged, and glanced around the room.

"Whass goin' on?" said Neville, sticking his head out of his curtains.  He rubbed at his eyes with a fist.  "Who's that?"

"I think -- I think it's Harry," said Seamus.

The last bit of sleepiness in Ron's body melted at Seamus's words.  Residue hissed like steam, rose through his limbs, and permeated through his system.  His body burned, skin tingled, and he forced his lungs to work when they screamed for oxygen.  He tried to walk, but his feet felt heavy, like blocks of lead attached at his ankles.

Harry claimed he couldn't sleep in the Head Boy room, so he moved back into the dormitory several days ago.  This was the result.  In a way, Ron was happy.  At least he could be here.  How much screaming had Harry endured until now?  Ron gasped.

Seamus broke through the gripping sensations first.  He disentangled from Ron, and ran over to Harry's bed to kneel on the floor.  Ripping back the curtains, Seamus gripped Harry by the shoulders and shook him.  Harry thrashed beneath the sheets, which were soaked with sweat and wrapped around his legs like binds.  He threw his head back, exposed thin scratches along his throat, and screamed.

"Gods, Harry," said Ron.  His mind reeled as he ran to the other side of Harry's bed.  Sitting, he pushed back Harry's bangs, which clung to his forehead.  Blood caked the scar on his forehead and formed rust-colored stains on the skin surrounding it.  Ron tried not to scream.  His teeth caught on his tongue as he bit back sobs, and a soft metallic taste spotted the roof of his mouth.

Panic gripped Seamus, spreading to the tips of his fingers and center of his body.  He shook Harry harder, screaming himself, and cried for Harry to wake up.  As the minutes passed and Harry continued to struggle, Ron felt his own sense of dread and panic.  Every ounce of self-control rose to the surface, begging him to keep his mind sane.  Only one person was allowed to lose their mind at a time, thank you.

For one terrifying second, Harry's body shook without Seamus's grip, and seemed on the verge of spontaneous combustion.  Ron wanted to scream, wanted to run, or at least hide some place where his best mate wasn't the most frightening thing he had ever seen.  Just as it began, it was over.  Harry lay limp in Ron's arms.  Seamus stared at Ron, his breath bated, before slumping over and hugging his knees to his chest.

"Harry?" said Ron.  He continued to hold Harry's hair back from his face with his left hand, and now scooped his right around Harry's shoulders.  Inky eyelashes fluttered, kissing the ashen apples of Harry's cheeks, and then a medium grey met Ron's own.  Harry touched the scar with the tips of his index and middle fingers and brought them eye level.  He looked from the bloody flakes to Ron.

Ron didn't know what to expect.  Nothing changed, but then why did everything feel so different?  For one of the few times in his life, Ron didn't know what to say.  It wasn't often that he found himself at a loss for words, but this was one.  He tried not to cry.  Harry never saw him cry before, and Ron didn't want it to become a habit any time soon.  Still, the tears were there, and replaced the adrenaline that ebbed from his bloodstream.  They were in Harry's eyes, too, glistening in a way that was almost beautiful.

"Nightmare?" asked Ron.  Harry nodded.

"Nightmare."

"You-Know-Who?"

"Voldemort."

Questions would have to wait until morning, Ron decided.  He hesitated only a moment before pulling Harry into his arms.  Resistance met him, but Ron refused to let Harry out of his grip.  It didn't take Seer Intuition to know that Harry needed someone, anyone, and Ron wasn't about to abandon him.  Seamus watched the exchange, then shuffled away from the bed and patted Neville on the head.

"He okay?" asked Neville.

"He's fine.  Go back to sleep."

Harry buried his face in the crook of Ron's neck, and gripped at the thin material of his shirt.  Fingernails sunk into cotton and skin, engraved half moons on flesh.  Words of comfort that Ron wasn't even aware of drifted from his mouth in murmurs, silent prayers for Harry to cling on.  Body heat mingled between them as they rocked, and Harry remained captured in a best friend's arms.  No words were said, but Ron never got back to sleep that night.  Neither did Harry.

*

By morning, Harry sunk into Ron's lap and feigned sleep.  Ron wasn't fooled, but pretended that he didn't notice.  After last night, it would only make for an awkward situation that Ron wasn't prepared to deal with.  He, too, pretended to be sleeping, and even got into a doze when the dormitory started to wake.

Neville was out of bed first, followed by Dean.  They made so much noise that Ron's prayers of catching a little sleep went unheard.  Insomnia was not becoming on Ron, but he found that he wore it more and more frequently.  Giving up on his dreams of a deep slumber, Ron shifted beneath the blankets, moved Harry's weight off his own body and onto the mattress.  Sliding out of the bed, Ron pulled the curtains closed.  He hung by the bed for a few seconds, pondering what happened last night.

Behind the curtains, Harry remained still.  Ron crept from the room and made his way to the bathroom.  Neville was there with a few younger students, going in and out of showers, and Ron grabbed a rag.  He ran it under a stream of cold water, wrung out the excess moisture, and folded it in his hands.  Leaving the room, he climbed the stairs to the dormitory.  Seamus was still asleep as Ron returned to Harry's bed.

Harry remained in the position Ron left him.  He looked asleep, but after years of sleeping in the same room as Harry, Ron knew his breathing pattern.  This was not the breathing pattern of a sleeping Harry.  Shaking his head, Ron held his breath for a moment, and then sat on the mattress.  His fingers brushed over Harry's forehead, which was sticky with residue of sweat and blood.  Pieces of black hair stuck to the skin, last night's perspiration working as an adhesive.  Sighing, Ron pressed the damp cloth to Harry's forehead.  Harry's eyelashes fluttered, and then he stared up at Ron.  His eyes looked greener than usual, large and round like a small child.  Ron grinned.

"Morning."

"Morning."  Harry touched Ron's wrist, curling his fingers around the bone.  "You don't have to do that."

"I know."

"Thanks."

"No need."

"I think I'm going to go see Dumbledore today."

"I think that's a good idea.  You should tell Hermione, too.  Keep her busy looking it up in the library.  That'd give us plenty of time for Quidditch and putting off our school work."

"Now that's a real idea."

"Just out of curiosity -- you don't have to answer me if you don't want --"

"You want to know about the dream."

Ron shrugged.

"I'll tell you just . . . can it wait until after I get back from seeing Dumbledore?  I don't want to think about it right now."

"Sure.  No problem."

Removing the cloth from Harry's forehead, Ron dropped his eyes to it.  Marks of blood stained the white terry cloth in strange patterns.  Morbid fantasies played out in Ron's head where these stains formed pictures like clouds often seemed to on a summer day.  Only in this game you didn't lay on your back with crisp grass beneath your skin, and you didn't look for rabbits or birds.  Folding the rag, Ron left the dormitory.

*

Laughter filled the Great Hall as Ron worked his way through his second helping of dinner.  Harry babbled about the latest Quidditch practice to Seamus, who insisted that the team showed promise.  On his left, Hermione comforted Neville's simpering.  That made Ron thankful.  The last thing he wanted on such a good day was Neville whimpering like an injured puffskein.  It was irritating.  Just because he had another run-in with Snape, it did not mean that he could ruin everyone else's good mood. 

Across the Hall, the Slytherin table was close to silent.  Hushed whispers passed between them that Ron wouldn't even know existed if they didn't move their mouths with such large gestures.  Malfoy kept his head ducked; his skin was brilliant pink.  Pushing his goblet away, Malfoy stood and headed for the doors, his shoulders slumped.  His feet seemed to drag as he walked, and he raked his fingers through his hair until it stuck out at odd angles.

"That was odd," Ron said.

"What's odd?" asked Hermione.  Ron shook his head. 

"Nothing." 

Hermione narrowed her eyes, glanced across the hall, and went back to Neville.  Turning the fork over, Ron stared at the reflection of the enchanted ceiling.  The skies were cloudy, dark, and a soft shadow fell over the metallic surface just before the rumble.

"What was that?" said Neville.  Damn it if he didn't simper, too.

"What was what?" said Harry.  Hermione started to roll her eyes.  "What?  What did I say?"

"Nothing, Harry," said Hermione.

All the lights went out at once; the darkness amplified the screaming that followed.  McGonagall tried to obtain some order, and Ron heard her voice along with Snape's as they tried to calm the students enough to be heard.  His wrist throbbed as Hermione wrapped her fingers around it.  She tugged on his arm to follow her, perhaps to assist McGonagall or head for the safety of the common room.  Ron didn't dare to budge.  There was too much commotion, too much chaos as everyone frenzied for a shelter.  He wouldn't let her go, either, and he reached out to find Harry, meeting his fingers halfway there.

The rumbling continued to get louder, and the seat beneath him began to shake.  At first it was only a small shudder, but it began to grow.  Soon, it was trembling without relent, threatening to throw Ron clear across the Gryffindor table, and maybe across the Hall once it really got started.  Snape and McGonagall's voices reached a din, but all the magic in the school couldn't make them heard.  They threw tables over and ducked behind them, or like Hermione, just wanted to escape.

Double doors of the Great Hall snapped open.  The lights flared up brighter than they had ever been.  Ron ducked his head between his legs, closing his eyes until they hurt beneath the lids.  Hermione gasped, released her grip on Ron's wrist, and she slid to the floor.

"Oh, Ron," she said, clawed at her lips, and then at his legs.  "Ron.  Thousands, Ron.  There's thousands."

Among the screaming, Ron wasn't surprised that he could pick out Harry.  He was louder than the rest; Ron bet it had to do with the scar on his forehead.  Fingernails dug into his palm -- Harry's fingers -- and Ron lifted his head.

There weren't thousands, but there was no doubt about who was in control.  Hooded figures swarmed across the Hall, wands drawn, and they threw curses at anyone who showed signs of resistance.  He watched in horror as one cloaked figured with crimson eyes walked with the kind of grace Ron wished he possessed to the center of the Hall.  Two blonde women stood by his side.  One was bound and gagged, held back by the other.  Sleeves too long for the arms they cased slid back to reveal bony fingers and pallor skin, a hand extended in some bizarre friendship by the red eyed man.  Harry's screams died when Dumbledore took Voldemort's hand.

Ron couldn't hear the exchange that passed over the screaming.  Voldemort said something to Dumbledore to which the headmaster laughed and glanced to the bound woman.  The smirk Dumbledore gave the girl crawled along Ron's skin like an infection.  He turned from Voldemort, crossed his wrists behind his back, and remained still while he, too, was bound and gagged.

The blonde woman lowered the bound blonde to the floor as Voldemort did with Dumbledore.  For a moment, she continued to struggle, and then they both laid still.  The Death Eaters had done their job as a silence spread over the Hall.  Anyone who screamed was hoarse, silenced, or rendered unable to speak by their measure.  Both bound bodies shivered for a moment, and now it was Dumbledore who struggled.  Voldemort undid the girl's gag.

"Well?" said Voldemort.

"Simple," she said.  "I told you I'd succeed."

"And how can I be sure that you are who you say you are?"

"How could I be who I say I am if I haven't claimed identity at all?"

His lips tugged at the corners.

"Well done.  You shall be rewarded.  First, do something about _this."  Voldemort kicked at Dumbledore's shin.  When he looked up, he surveyed the area, taking in all the eyes and ears paying him attention.  "Students and faculty of Hogwarts, know that you have been hoodwinked.  Under your very nose I've taken your headmaster from you, and now I return him once he is useless.  Now there is no Albus Dumbledore to save you, and soon, there will be no Harry Potter, either."_

He extended one of those bony fingers that Ron detested, pointed it at Harry, and curled it toward him.  The blondes freed Dumbledore from his bindings, and stood at Voldemort's side like whores.  With the beckoning motion done, they walked toward Harry.  His scar split open again; blood ran down his face, past the bridge of his nose, and just past the corner of his mouth.  Ron reached out for Harry, but they got there first.  He had nowhere to run, not with all the Death Eaters training their wands on him.

"Sad that it's come to this," said Voldemort.  "You could have had talent if you knew how to develop it."

One of the blondes grabbed Harry by his hair and yanked his head back to expose his throat.  Tremors ran up the side of his face as he grinded his teeth together.

"Which way would you like it, Harry?  Slow and painful?  Quick and painless?  Messy?  Clean?  Or would you prefer to go out the way your parents did when your mother tried to sacrifice herself for you?  Stupid, really, now that I have to kill you anyway."

"What my mother did was honorable, something you clearly know nothing about."

"Clearly.  If you really want it that way . . . I did hope it wouldn't come to this.  Ah, well.  _Avada Kedavra!"_

*

The oxygen was cold in his lungs.  It was painful to breathe, but Ron sucked on air until he was hyperventilating.  His shoulders shook with every spasm of his lungs and diaphragm.  Sharp jagged pangs shot through his side, burned from his ribcage up through his chest like a wildfire.  He clutched at his throat with one hand and tightened his fingers of the other in soft plush.

"Ron, what's wrong?"

Harry -- that was Harry's voice, and Ron had never been so happy to hear it.  If he could breathe, he would jump out of his horrid position and throw his arms around his best mate until it was Harry that couldn't breathe.  His fist tightened around the cushion, and he sucked in a long stream of air.  When he opened his eyes, they twitched across the room, and stilled only when they landed on Harry.

"Ron, say something.  Ron!"

"I can't breathe."

Later, Ron thought that maybe that hadn't been the best thing to say, but it was the only thing that came to mind.  Except for the image of Voldemort with his wand pointed at Harry's heart, that is.  The others in the Gryffindor common room watched Ron struggle.  Someone said something about Dumbledore, but Harry stopped them from going any further.  Harry continued to mumble, and stared hard at Ron, like trying to heal him with his eyes.  As this picture passed in Ron's mind, he caught his breath long enough to make a snort of laughter.

Breathing came easier after that.  He imagined Harry's pupils diminishing until they were nothing but green.  Once he got to that stage, Harry tried to kill Voldemort by staring at him with those pure green eyes that could not see (because once your pupil is gone, how are you ever going to see a thing?).  The focus allowed him to take in oxygen one breath at a time until the burning in his chest was gone.  It took longer for the air to warm up; Harry already tried to make conversation by the time his lungs didn't feel frozen.

"Vision?" asked Harry.  Ron nodded.

"Yeah."

"I don't know if these are good for your health."

Ron managed another snort of laughter.  "I do.  They aren't.  They're terrible for me, actually.  It's okay.  I'll get used to them.  This is all still new to me."

"Why would you want to get used to this?"

"Because it's the only choice I've got.  What am I supposed to say?  'Thanks, but I don't want foresight anymore.  Take it back.' "

"Sure."

"That would be like you asking someone to take back your scar.  Just because it would make things easier, no one is going to do it."

"Was that supposed to be a Ron Weasley pearl of wisdom?"

"Think so.  Still got a bit of sand in it if you ask me."

"Nice try.  Think you're spending too much time with Hermione?"

"Probably.  Where were you?  Just come back from Dumbledore?"

The thought of Dumbledore made Ron wince.  He saw Voldemort shaking Dumbledore's hand, putting Dumbledore in the binds, and then the blonde releasing him.  Voices rang in his head, Voldemort's arrogance in fooling the Hogwarts faculty and students.

Harry hesitated, his eyes breaking their connection with Ron's.  He picked at the hem of his sleeve.

"Yeah."

"Did you tell him about your nightmare?"

"I started to."

"But?"

Harry sighed.  "But -- this is going to sound crazy, Ron.  I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, Harry.  You can tell me anything."

"Not this."

"Harry --"

"You're going to think I went off the deep end.  I don't know.  Maybe I did.  Ron . . . it's just so confusing."

The only analogy Ron could make was that it was like being pummeled by an angry Malfoy.  Only, that didn't begin to describe this feeling.  In a fraction of a second, Ron had little need for the questions he was about to ask.  He knew everything that he wondered, but he couldn't describe how he knew it.  The knowledge was just there, sitting in his mind like when you search for something and you realize that you've had it all along, only it was hidden.

Could he trust this?  It was common for Ron to be wrong about his instincts.  Then again, he couldn't call this instinct.  Instinct wasn't this insistent about things.  He tried to think of something to say, but nothing felt right.  Ron never had been good with words.

"If I tell you about my vision, will you tell me what happened with Dumbledore?"

Harry paused.  Well, and why not?  It wasn't often that Ron volunteered information on his visions, and Harry was rabid when it came to finding out about them.  He asked Ron questions about them without relent, most of which Ron refused to answer.  This frustrated Harry.  He didn't possess a natural ability with patience, especially when he was twitching with anticipation.  After what seemed like careful consideration, Harry nodded.

It took a few minutes until Ron sorted out what he wanted to say and how he was going to say it.  Sometimes he had a tendency to jump headfirst into things without consideration, and this tactic often left Harry bewildered and confused.  Once he sorted his words into coherent sentences, Ron took a deep breath.

"We were at the Halloween feast.  Everyone was laughing . . . having a good time.  You were talking about the Quidditch team, and how you thought we had a lot of promise this year.  Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary except for the Slytherins.  They whispered back and forth a lot, but were quiet otherwise.  Malfoy was by himself, doing nothing.  I remember how flushed he looked, because he's usually so pale.  Then, for no reason, he got up and left.

"After Malfoy was gone, there was this rumble sound like thunder.  I ignored it at first, but then it came again.  All the lights went out; people were screaming.  Everyone was running around.  It was chaos.  Then, the lights came back on, and Death Eaters stormed into the Great Hall.  There were so many of them.  We didn't have a chance."

"The siege," said Harry, paling.  Ron nodded.

"The siege.  You-Know-Who was there with these two blonde women.  One was tied up and being led by the other.  It was terrible . . . You-Know-Who crossed the hall and then -- he and Dumbledore -- they shook hands, Harry."

Harry's expression stayed calm, his eyes fixed on a point just over Ron's shoulder.  He sighed, nodded, and dug his fingers into his hair.

"It's not even him, Ron.  I trust Dumbledore.  I always have.  I mean, there have been times when I've been angry with him, but going there today . . . it was uncomfortable.  He didn't talk like Dumbledore.  I mean, he did, but it was forced.  Like he was pretending to be Dumbledore."

"Like _she_ was pretending to be Dumbledore."

"What?"

"In my vision, after they shook hands, You-Know-Who put him in binds.  Then he seemed to have fallen asleep.  The next minute, they released the blonde girl.  You-Know-Who said something about us being tricked.  That he took our headmaster out from under our very noses."

"So . . ."

Ron bit his lip.

"We need to go see Professor Leiss."

"Who?"

"My Prognostics teacher.  I think she might be able to help."

*

"So let me get this straight," said Professor Leiss, leaning on the table, "first the blonde was in binds, then it was Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"And neither one of you thinks that Professor Dumbledore is who he says he is?"

"Right."

"Those are some heavy accusations, Ron."

"He wanted me to use a Pensieve," said Harry.  "A Pensieve to put the memories of my dreams and anything else I thought might be useful in working against Voldemort.  Dumbledore would never ask me to do something like that.  It's too risky."

"What were your nightmares?"

"The siege.  Exactly like Ron described."

"You're making it hard for me to argue with you."

"I don't want to argue.  I want to know what you think."

"What I think?"  Professor Leiss sighed.  "I think we've got a problem on our hands.  What you're describing -- the blonde would have to be a Switcher, or capable of switching."  She chewed on the fingernail of her thumb, and walked over to the fireplace.  Grabbing a handful of glittering powder, she tossed it into the fire.  "Phoenix?  A word?"

Moments later, Professor Valmont stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot from his robes.  He glanced from Harry to Ron to Professor Leiss.

"You called for me, Rebekah?"

"Yeah.  We have a problem."

"That sounds pleasant.  What sort of problem?"

"A Death Eater, we're all going to die sort of problem."

"Explain."

Professor Leiss explained Harry's nightmare and his visit with Dumbledore.  She went through the finer points of Ron's vision.  When she got the part about Malfoy, Valmont's face turned into a closed expression.

"It sounds like a Switcher," said Valmont.

"That's what I thought.  Whether it is or not, precautions need to be taken.  Harry has a history of nightmares about the future thanks to that scar of his.  Ron's a certified Seer.  They both saw Death Eaters taking over Hogwarts at the Halloween feast.  Something has to be done."

Valmont stared at the floor, and sat on the corner of Leiss's desk.  His eyes narrowed as if he were trying to make out something in the distance which kept swimming out of focus.

"We won't be able to stop it.  There's too many of them.  The only option I see is to get out of here."

"How do we do that when Dumbledore is gone?  If the Death Eaters have someone inside, we're done for.  They'll know something's up."

"It's going to have to be low key.  Not all of us will be able to go.  Not everyone will believe us.  The faculty will have to be alerted.  I'd start with Minerva and Sev.  They can take care of everyone else.  Some people are going to have to stay.  After they take over, the Death Eaters are going to give Dumbledore back to us."

"The most important thing is to make sure that they don't figure out what we're up to," said Leiss.  Valmont nodded.

"Rebekah, go fetch Minerva and Severus.  Tell them what you know and see what they say."  Leiss nodded and left the classroom.  "Harry, Ron, listen to me.  If Death Eaters take over, we're going to have to fight and try to take it back.  This has to be low-key, so tell anyone that you think will believe you.  What I think is going to happen is that Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Leiss, and myself will inform all the students who will be able to fight and will believe.  Just because they know Voldemort's back doesn't mean they'll believe Dumbledore could be gone.  We're going to have to set up a hideout, maybe two or three.  We're going to take back our school.  I'll notify you if anything changes about the plan, and I'll let you know when we're leaving.  Until then, act as if nothing has changed.  Life has to go on as normal as it was before."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, nodding.

"Good.  Go back to your common room.  And remember: tell only who you can trust.  I'll keep you updated."

Phoenix disappeared through the door, leaving Harry and Ron alone.

"At least they took us seriously," said Ron.

"Come on.  We need to find Hermione."

**Please review.  It's good karma.**


	6. The Four Mages

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name:  AndromedanQueen**

**Title:  The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Wherein Professor Valmont talks about Absconditus and its time for relocation.**

**Disclaimer:  I don't own Harry Potter.  I do own this plot and all original characters.  Be advised.**

**Caution: This is slash.  Boys will kiss boys eventually, and perhaps do a little more.  It is rated R.  There is naughty language.  I do not want another email about toning down my 'fucks'.  Be advised.**

**Archive:  Yes, please, but let me know where my story is going.  Be advised.**

**After all this advising, I suppose you should just read the story.**

**_Chapter Six:  The Four Mages_**

"Mr. Weasley, I'd like to see you after class."

Professor Valmont sat at his desk, feet kicked up on a pile of parchments while he leafed through a large textbook that would not be out of place in Hermione's collection with its large, yellowed pages.  At Valmont's words Malfoy snickered, causing Crabbe and Goyle to smirk with him.  Pathetic, that, the way they followed Malfoy into everything.  Standing from his seat, Valmont shook his head and half-rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy, is there a problem?"

"There never is a problem, Professor.  It would probably do you good to stop asking."

"It would do you good to keep your tongue."

Malfoy arched his eyebrow and Valmont crossed his arms over his chest.  They stared at each other, refusing to break eye contact.  After several moments, it was Malfoy who caved.  His lower lip trembled and his feet shuffled until he broke the connection to fumble with a roll of parchment.  A smile curved Valmont's lips and he stood.

"Today we're going to do a combination notes and discussion class.  It would do you all well to pay close attention because I'm warning you right now that this is a big part of your curriculum this year.  My better judgment begged me to teach this at a later date, but circumstances that I could not foresee have forced me to change my schedule.  I need to get this in before Halloween, and now is just as good a time as any."

Valmont rounded his desk and took a seat upon it.

"The Prophecy of Absconditus.  Who here has heard of it?"

Several hands inched into the air.  Hermione's was not one of them, and she gaped when Ron, after a bit of hesitation, raised his hand.  Harry snickered.

"Ron knows something you don't?" he said.  "Hermione, have you been slacking off?"

"Shut up, Harry," she said.

"As I expected," said Valmont.  "Keep your hands in the air.  Now, Miss Granger, what do you notice about the people who know about the Prophecy?  What do they all have in common?"

Hermione looked from Ron to Crabbe to Goyle to Malfoy to Neville, and continued around the room, taking inventory of who had a hand raised and who did not.  After some time, she said, "They're all pureblood."  Valmont nodded.

"Very good, Miss Granger.  Excellent observation.  Take five points for Gryffindor.  Anyone know why this is?  Mr. Malfoy?"

"The Prophecy of Absconditus is really more myth than fact.  My father told me that it's never been documented, but only passed down by word of mouth.  Folklore."

Crossing his arms, Valmont nodded.

"The Prophecy of Absconditus is wizarding folklore passed down from the fourth century when four convicts disappeared from their holding cells and the city they were held in collapsed.  Some of this story has been proven true.  There was once a city called Absconditus, though the exact location of it is not documented.  Many scholars believe that it was Unplottable, but I'll get to theories later in class.

"Absconditus, in the fourth century, was a prosperous kingdom and a magical center rival to our modern London.  The year was 372 A.D., and Absconditus was ruled by King Reegan Alcor.  His first wife died by this time, and he was now married to Larrissa Mizar.  She was wealthy and beautiful according to the surviving records; everything fit for a king.  Together, they had three children, two from Reegan's first marriage, and a third, a bastard son, born to Larrissa before she wed the king.

"King Reegan's two sons were named Starvos Reegan and Ryan Sloan; Larrissa's son was named Bade.  Now, Starvos was the older of the two brothers, and the rightful heir to the throne.  Ryan, being the younger, was often overshadowed by his brother and his stepmother.  Bade, being a bastard child who did not know his father, was looked upon as a blight on the family.  It was only inevitable that the two would become close friends.

"There wouldn't be much to this story if it were not for two more people.  Lorenzo Merak was the middle child of ten from a family of drunkards.  At the age of eighteen, he ran away and met Reynaldo Lynx through an old family friend.  Lynx was advisor to the king at that time, introduced to Reegan through Larrissa.  Lynx's line can be connected to the Mizars, and it is believed that he was a cousin to the unknown father of Bade Mizar.  He was a highly respected wizard, who would have not looked twice at Merak if it were not for his rare gift of freezing time.

"I told you the first day of class how rare the gift to freeze time is if you aren't a Keeper.  Merak was born with this ability, and Lynx found it impossible to refuse the boy.

"The last of our characters is Hero Veriatice.  At the age of four, she was enslaved to the Alcor family, and her name was changed to Ana.  It was said that a handmaid could not hold a name such as Hero.  Veriatice came from a broken home, and she was raised by the overseers whom she had been sold to.  As she grew older, she was placed as a handmaid to Prince Ryan.

"For those of you who know the story, can any of you give us the synopsis?  A basis?  Sum it up as you've heard it.  Mr. Zabini?"

"Well," said Blaise, tapping the desk, "the way I heard it was that one day, King Reegan and Prince Starvos were found dead in their chambers.  Somehow, the blame came to falsely lie on Ryan Alcor, Bade Mizar, Lorenzo Merak, and Hero Veriatice.  They were convicted and sentenced to die.  The thing was that they each also held a rare gift, like Lorenzo's gift of time.  Those gifts were also to be taken at the time of their death.

"On the night before they were to be executed, they disappeared.  The next day, the city collapsed.  No one knows what happened to them or to the city, but it's said that they scattered their magic in the collapsed city and would return in another life when evil returned."

"Excellent.  Thank you, Mister Zabini.  Ten points to Slytherin.  It's been proven that Absconditus existed, that our four key characters were sentenced to death, and that they disappeared.  It's also been proven that Absconditus fell the very next morning.  What we don't know is what evil ruled before.  Who really killed Reegan and Starvos Alcor?  Why?

"Another interesting point worth mentioning is the relationship between Hero and Ryan.  Just before the murder, Starvos exposed an affair between the Prince and his handmaid.  She was pregnant, and with the knowledge of her relationship to Ryan out in the public, the people of Absconditus reacted.  They stoned her, and she almost lost the baby.  What part does that have to play in all of this?  Anyone have an opinion they'd like to share?"

*

"Mr. Weasley?"

Ron shoved his notes into his bag and looked up at Professor Valmont.  He nodded, slung his bag over his shoulder, and turned to Harry and Hermione.

"Wait for me, okay?  We won't be long, and I'm going to have to tell you what he said anyway."

When Harry and Ron first told Hermione about their plans to depart from Hogwarts, Hermione thought it was ludicrous.  In time, though, she began to pick up on differences between the Dumbledore they had known and the Dumbledore that now frequented the school halls.  From the moment she agreed to leave, Ron could tell she was scared.  As Halloween loomed closer, Hermione was nervous about everything.  Her eyes grew wide at Ron's words, but she nodded, and Harry directed her out of the classroom.

"You wanted to see me," said Ron.

"Yes.  Please pull up a chair."

Ron walked to the front of the classroom and grabbed a chair.  He pulled it over to Valmont's desk and sat.  Clearing his throat, Valmont fingered the edge of his robes before starting.

"I've spoken to Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Professor Leiss many times about your vision and Mr. Potter's dream.  We've reached a conclusion that I can't say I'm happy about, but it's the best we could come up with.  Considering that we do not have Professor Dumbledore or the luxury to send students home without sending out warning signals, secrecy is the biggest issue.  After many debates, we've decided that there's nothing else to do but to accept the siege."

"But, Professor --"

"I'm not finished, Mr. Weasley.  We cannot fight them with such short notice.  There need to be more of us.  Those we can trust must be notified.  Members of the Order, for one.  No one can be overlooked, and it all has to be done without tipping off the Death Eaters.  Such actions cannot be done before Halloween.  It's only four days away.

"When I say 'accept the siege,' I do mean that some of the students will be held by the Death Eaters.  This is the part that I'm against, but Professor Snape insists that it's our best bet.  The siege is about control, but what they really want is Harry.  He's the first person we have to get out of here.

"We're setting up three camps.  Six members of the Hogwarts staff will be leaving; the rest will stay during the siege with the younger students.  Professor McGonagall insists that those only fifth year and up leave the school, because those leaving are those who will be fighting.  These students will be scattered between the three camps, each camp with two members of the staff."

"Why three?" said Ron.

"What happens if one of our camps is attacked?  If Death Eaters found us and we were all in one place, it would all be over.  We'd lose half our people with two.  Three just seemed like a decent number."

"Who's going?"

"Me, Professor Leiss, Professor Marcositi, Professor Snape, Professor Sinistra, and Madam Pomfrey.  The rest will stay with the students who are either unwilling to fight, or who will not believe us if we told them."

"What about the students?"

"That depends.  Harry, of course, must go, or he'll be killed.  I assume you still intend to go."

"And Hermione."

Valmont made a note on a slip of parchment.

"Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape made up a list of students who they think will be willing to go and fight, or who would at least believe us.  Miss Granger was on the list.  So are most of the surviving members of Mister Potter's fifth year D.A. class.  I believe Professor Snape is taking care of the few Slytherins who made the list.  Professor Leiss is working on the Ravenclaws, and I have the Hufflepuffs.  Professor McGonagall, of course, has the Gryffindors, but I've been asked to speak with you since I had you in my class today.  If you could let Harry know --"

"Harry's been ready to leave since he first had the nightmare."

"Very well.  Tell only who you must."

"When are we leaving?"

"Halloween.  You _must be at the harbor where the first years arrive at Hogwarts before five o'clock.  We'll leave promptly at five -- not a minute before, not a minute after.  All day long we'll leak people out of the school.  Can't let them all go at once.  But you must be there at five.  The same thing goes for Miss Granger and Mr. Potter.  If you have any questions, see one of us before then."_

"Thank you Professor Valmont."

"No need to thank me.  Now run along.  I'm sure there are people you're going to want to contact, and I have plans to work out."

"Yes, sir."

"And Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Be sure to pack your notes on the Prophecy of Absconditus."

Ron frowned.

"I'm sorry?"

"Trust me."

Ron left Professor Valmont's classroom and headed into the corridor.  Harry and Hermione sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.  Silence mounted between them, and both heads snapped up when Ron emerged.  He gave them a grin.

"We leave Friday.  Five o'clock."

"That's cutting it kind of close," said Harry.

"I know, but we can't tip anyone off.  We're only supposed to tell the people we can trust."

"Like?"

"I don't know.  McGonagall is supposed to take care of most of the Gryffindors, but I want to tell Ginny."

"That's a good idea," said Hermione.  She stood from the floor, and Harry followed.  They brushed their robes off and headed down the hall.

*

"Ryan."

Ron rolled over in bed, and saw a figure moving through the dark.  The portrait on the far wall shut, and footsteps crept along the hardwood floor.  The sheets pulled back and a lean body slid beneath the material.

"Couldn't sleep?" said Ron.

"No.  You were all I could think about."

Bade twined his fingers into Ron's hair, a light ash blond rather than the usual vivid red he was accustomed to.  He would have never noticed the difference had it not been for the moonlight that shone between thin curtains.  It illuminated Bade's fingers, which had these blond stands wrapped around them.  He smiled, gave a soft tug on it, and leaned forward to capture Ron's lips.

"Do you know just how exquisite you are?" said Bade.

"No, but that's probably a good thing."

"Mmm."  He nodded.  "It makes you all the more attractive."

"You shan't be in here.  Anyone could see you."

"I'll be where I wish.  No one, especially not my mother, is going to tell me where I shall and shan't be."

"What about Starvos?"

"That brother of yours has far too much time on his hands.  If all he does to entertain himself is get you in trouble, he lives a sad life.  Don't think on it, love.  You think too much."

"It's my biggest flaw."

"Let's pretend it doesn't exist, if only for a moment."

Ron parted his lips as Bade touched them with his index finger and slid one between them.  His tongue stroked the length of Bade's finger; his mouth closed around it and sucked.  Bade moaned, shifted, and bit his bottom lip when Ron kissed the tip.

Shifting their positions, Ron forced Bade onto his back and pulled his head back to expose the throat.  Wrapping his mouth around the Adam's apple, Ron sucked on the flesh, determined to leave a mark.  Bade twisted his arms around Ron's waist and hooked his thumb into the waist of Ron's trousers.  His palm opened flat against the small of Ron's back, and Bade pulled their hips together so that there was no room left between them.

Ron cupped his hand around Bade's neck and pulled him forward to meet his lips.  They tasted sweeter than they had before, softer, wetter, and Ron found that he needed more.  It was a strange sensation, pouring everything that consumed him into another being.  Bade responded, met each kiss, each stroke of the tongue, with more zeal than Ron ever experienced.  Familiar and foreign, here and yet somewhere else, Ron ripped the material from Bade's body as he searched for the flesh he craved. 

"Ryan," said Bade, clinging to Ron's back.  The muscles of Bade's stomach twitched beneath Ron's fingers as he ran his hands over naked skin.  Sweat collected as they filled each other, salt on Ron's tongue when he lapped his way across Bade's nude chest.

*

"Ron!"

Pale fingers wrapped around his sweaty arms faded into freckled fingers gripping at his shoulders.  Soft pants of love, desire, and other things that lovers say vanished to be replaced by insistent shouting.  Bade's soft angles and thick black hair transformed into soft curves and flaming red.  To say that it was disturbing would be an understatement.  It was just under enough to drive him insane.

"Ginny?"

It was enough to quell the hint of an erection that had been forming.

"You're getting better about the visions," said Harry.  "You didn't scream at all that time, and you didn't look like a catatonic patient.  You didn't even look asleep.  Just like you were staring into space."

Ron tried to laugh, but it sounded strangled to his ears.  He winced.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing."

"What was the vision about?" asked Ginny.  "Was it about -- today?"

Ron shook his head.

"No.  I don't really want to talk about it."

"Getting secretive again?" said Harry.

"I would have been secretive about the Halloween one if it weren't going to put all of our lives in danger.  I'm selfish, but I'm not that selfish."

"You aren't selfish, Ron.  Don't be an idiot."

Ginny smiled at Harry's words and sat beside her brother on the plushy sofa.  They were in the Gryffindor common room on Friday afternoon.  Lessons just got out on Halloween, and everyone prepared for the feast.  It was hard to go through the last couple days of lessons.  There was no way to know who was leaving today and who wasn't.  Some students had already gone -- boats left every hour on the hour since one o'clock, two hours ago.  Ginny was scheduled to leave with the other Gryffindor sixth years (including Colin Creevy) in an hour.

From the moment Ron told her about his fears and his vision, Ginny jumped at the chance to get out of there.  She didn't have a hard time sensing her brother's unease.  It radiated off him in waves that someone as close as a sister could read without ever having to be told.  Now he blocked himself off.  She couldn't place a single emotion that she recognized on his blank face.  Ron had always been so expressive, but the older he got, the harder it was to tell what was on his mind.  He had grown so complex when he matured.  Ginny often didn't know what to make of it.

"I have to pack," said Ginny.  Ron didn't look at her as he nodded, but he squeezed her wrist as she rose to leave.

"Be careful," he said.

"I will.  I'll see you out there."

"Did you write Mum and Dad?  So they know we're safe?"

"I was going to write once we got there.  There's always a chance the plan could go wrong and then they wouldn't know if we got out or if something was fouled up."

"Sending owls isn't secure.  You have to be careful."

"I will be.  Don't worry."

"I mean it, Gin.  This isn't just something to mess around with.  This is big, important stuff.  Life or death."

"I know, Ron."  She kissed him on the forehead.  "I'll be careful."

Ron pressed his lips together and nodded.  Ginny grinned before heading out of the common room.  Walking across the room, Hermione took Ginny's place on the sofa and patted Ron on the shoulder.

"Ginny's a big girl."

"She's still my little sister."

"We all need to be careful.  Not just Ginny."

"I know, but I don't want her to get hurt.  Too many people are going to be left behind already.  We can't lose the people leaving."

"Like Hagrid," said Harry, frowning.  "Hagrid is staying."

"Well, honestly, can you imagine trying to sneak Hagrid out of here?" said Hermione.  "Come on.  We should pack, too."

Forty minutes later, Ron watched as Ginny and Colin left the common room.  There was nothing left to do now but wait.  The five o'clock boat was the last one to leave, and they had to be down at the harbor in an hour.  In an hour and it would begin.  The Death Eaters would attack a school missing six of its teachers and a portion of its older students, Harry Potter being one of them.  Hogwarts students would be within the clutches of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  Ron felt for the first years.  If the siege of Hogwarts happened in his first year, he wasn't sure he'd have ever come back for a second.

They passed the next sixty minutes in silence.  Harry chewed on the collar of his cloak, his green eyes blank and fixated on something far beyond what Ron and Hermione could see.  Hermione sat in a corner, and stared at a book like it was the most interesting thing in the world.  Ron would bet his right arm that she wasn't reading a word, and that if she was, she wasn't registering it.  Around the common room, it was obvious who would be on that final boat.  Mannerism said everything.

Neville, like Harry, stared at some point beyond the average field of vision.  Maybe they looked at the same thing, Ron thought.  Lavender Brown hadn't talked to Parvati Patil since Charms.  While Parvati was off with her twin sister somewhere, Lavender checked her watch and tugged on the strap of her bag.  Seamus and Dean laughed, played chess.  They were two of those who had no clue what was about to happen tonight.  Ron felt a pang sear through his chest.  This just wasn't right.

Thirty minutes to five and Neville left the common room with his bag (probably wanting to be early so that he didn't get left behind).  It was a little something like insurance, as it is better to be safe than to be sorry.  Lavender left after, not ever looking Ron's way, but her eyes settled on Harry for half a second before she crawled out the portrait hole.  After all, it was naive to think that Harry Potter wouldn't be among those who left for the camps.

Ron left the common room with Harry and Hermione.  His thoughts tore back and forth between the realization that he may be leaving Hogwarts for good and his vision that danced in his mind.  That vision made his body react.  Another man kissed him, Ron kissed him back, and it had felt so right that it was hard for his mortal mind to comprehend.

The boats left at five o'clock just like Professor Valmont said.  A few fifth year Ravenclaws and sixth year Hufflepuffs were with the five Gryffindors.  Memories of being dropped off here in first year replaced his vision while they set sail, and then the vision of Bade was back.

That was the second time he had a vision where another man kissed him, but this time he was certain that the man called him by another name.  This would have been all well and good if it weren't for the fact that it still felt like Ron.  When he told Professor Leiss about this, she said it sounded like a past life experience, but a soul-bind was needed for one of those since he wasn't a Keeper.  Why would anyone want to use a soul-bind?  What could this Ryan and Bade . . . 

Ryan and Bade.

Ron sat, staring, as the boat pulled up at Hideout A.  Professor Sinistra and Madam Pomfrey were already there, and when the boats arrived, they read off the list of students.  Hermione, Neville, and a few of the younger students were called to leave the boats.  The goodbye wasn't tearful.  It wasn't very emotional at all.  Hermione stepped out of the boat, said that she'd see them soon, and followed Professor Sinistra into the woods.  The boats took off again.

Digging through his bag, Ron pulled out a roll of parchment, bound together by a strip of orange material that used to be part of a Chudley Cannons T-shirt.  Undoing the binding, Ron unrolled the parchment and looked over his scrolling words.  There it was, plain as day, and unmistakable in his own handwriting: Ryan Alcor and Bade Mizar, stepbrothers, and one half of the Four Mages.

_"Lorenzo, help me get him up."_

_"Hero, take his other hand."_

It was the first vision in this charade.  The first time Bade -- Bade Mizar -- kissed him and called him Ryan.  Lorenzo must have been Lorenzo Merak, and Hero must have meant Hero Veriatice: the Four Mages.

_"Exactly.__  Wizards are single natured.  They don't go through reincarnation, and the only people that do are Keepers.  Wizards who do go through reincarnation do so only because a Keeper binds them.  It's a complicated process.  Not a lot of people want to go through it.  And binds are only done in times where it's absolutely necessary."_

Professor Leiss when mentioning the first vision.  He had been so confused.  Pieces clicked in his head.  It started to come together and form a picture.  Then, just as things swam together in front of his eyes, the boats came to a stop.  Professor Snape and Professor Valmont walked out to the shore, and Valmont clutched a piece of parchment.

"Those of you who aren't on this list will be going to Hideout C with Professor Leiss and Professor Marcositi," said Snape.

Valmont unfolded the parchment and started to read.

"Lavender Brown, Kerry Daubert, Jonathan Maccaeden, Gene Stark, Ronald Weasley."

Harry's mouth hung open, staring at Ron.

"I bet Snape split us up on purpose," said Harry.

"I'll see you soon."

It was something Harry had done very few times before because he didn't like to seem weak in front of anyone, but as Ron rose to leave the boat, Harry wrapped him in a hug.  During moments like these, emotions are okay.  Ron hugged Harry as tight as he could before pulling away, saying goodbye, and he stepped out of the boat.  His bag hung on his shoulder as he followed Snape and Valmont through rock and stone until they came to a crevice hardly noticeable if you weren't looking for it.

"This is the entrance to the hideout," said Snape.  "We'll teach you about Hideouts A and C for when you need to go back and forth.  Don't worry, you will see your friends again."

"Follow us," said Valmont.  Snape slid through first, Valmont went next, and the students followed.  Ron entered after Lavender.

The lighting was low; candles and lanterns sat all around to create a soft glow.  Magic -- Ron soon learned -- was limited down here thanks to the possibility that Voldemort may try to track them that way.  Despite the prehistoric atmosphere and limits on magic usage, the hideout was cozy and more hospitable than Ron would have imagined.   The main room held a large, long table covered in plans, parchment, quills, and ink.  Several chairs and sofas sat around, which Ron presumed Valmont or Snape must have transfigured from rocks or the like.

Hospital beds were down a stone corridor and set up in some sort of infirmary station.  A potions lab was also set back up this way, and thin pieces of material hung from the ceiling around each bed.  Apparently, even if you were underground, you still deserved your privacy when recovering from some sort of illness or injury.

Sleeping quarters were nothing more than lumpy mattresses strewn about the floor.  There were several rooms of these, each one with two, three, or four mattresses.  Not many were needed seeing as how most of the students were still at the school.  It was in one of these rooms where Ron first saw him.  Setting up around one bed was Kerry Daubert, a Ravenclaw fifth year.  One of the makeshift beds was assigned to Ron by Professor Valmont.  Sprawled across the last one in the room was Draco Malfoy, half asleep, with his head resting on his arm.

**To everyone who has read and not reviewed, thank you for taking the time to at least read, and if you're really enjoying something, drop me a review or an email at the above address.  It isn't hard and doesn't take much time.  The same goes for a question you may want an answer to.**

**I won't respond to reviews often in the chapters, but I will respond to all emails.  If you're pressing for a response, that's the best way to go.  For the first of the sparse replies here, read on:**

**Gabriela2:  Draco will be around more often.  There will not be a reformed Draco.  Let's face it, Draco is a prick straight through from book one to book five.  And with Valmont?  Draco got his just desserts.  As for if he calms down a bit, I guess you'll have to read on and see.**

**Maggs****:  You'll see everyone's powers soon enough and as for more Draco . . . it's progressing.  You'll see plenty more of him soon.**

**Claire:  Thank you for your constructive review.  If you see anything that seems lacking, please feel free to tell me.  You will see plenty more about Ryan and the others as I suppose this chapter proved.  Keep on reading.  I'll keep writing.**

**Rory-Dasiny@hotmail.com:  No, this is not going to be an MPreg.**

**TigerLilly2063:  About Professor Leiss?  Perhaps. . . Not that it was a big stretch to guess about.  Of course, you were the only one who mentioned it. . . Have a cookie.  Good job.**

**Ferretgirl1023:  The only reason you've read the entire story is because you're my sister and you stalk my computer.  Shut up.  ("Did you write yet?  Did you write yet?")**

**Riley:  I know what you mean about Ron.  He's my favorite character and it annoys me when people write him so badly and out of character.  I'm glad you like "my" Ron.**

**Amen:  Your name says it all.  I hate when people make Draco something he isn't without a good support behind it.  I hope your questions will get answers by the end.  **

**To everyone who can't wait to see what comes next, I guess you'll have to wait until next Tuesday.  *wink***

**To those who want me to update soon, I hope next Tuesday is soon enough.**

**Check out for updates next Tuesday.  Until then?  I don't know.  Read my other stories.  Review.  Read this again.  Do your homework.  Don't do drugs.  Tell your friends about my stories and make them read and review.  Only you can prevent forest fires.  Have fun.**


	7. Hideout B

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name:  AndromedanQueen**

**Title:  The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Wherein Ron and Draco fight and there are revelations to be had.**

**See previous chapters for information on disclaimer, archive, and cautions.**

**Sorry for the delay.  I am a college student.**

**_Chapter Seven:  Hideout B_**

Kerry Daubert knew of the feud between Draco and Ron.  There were very few people in the wizarding world, let alone Hogwarts, that didn't know about the rivalry between the Malfoys and the Weasleys.  It only suited that Draco and Ron would not get along.  In spite of this, or maybe because of it, Kerry remained quiet and sat on his mattress.  He looked between Ron and Draco, breath bated

Clearing his throat, Ron coughed loud enough to make Draco jump.  Draco sat up, rubbing at his tired eyes with fists like a small child rather than the teenager he was.  As he looked around the room, his eyes landed on Ron.  For a moment he looked lost.  Vacant expressions crossed his face in variations before his eyes narrowed.  He stood, walked over, and lifted his chin to stare Ron in the eye.

"Weasley, what a surprise.  Someone actually decided that your life was worth saving, was it?  Or are you here because that old bat McGonagall saved precious Potter, and you couldn't bear to be left behind."

"Yeah, Malfoy, that was it.  Harry had to leave so I left, too.  I mean, I would be so lonely without him around.  I don't know what I'd do with myself."

"Good of you to finally admit it.  Must do wonders for your mental health."

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

"Same as you.  Avoiding Death Eaters and fighting for Hogwarts.  Not that I should have to explain myself to you."

"Fighting for Hogwarts?  Yeah, right.  Funny, that.  Since when have you been on our side?"

"I already said that I don't have to explain myself to you."

"And why is that?  Because you don't have an explanation!"  Ron felt his cheeks heating up, and he wished that he didn't get worked up so easily, but Malfoy always had a way of crawling under his skin.  It was annoying when the one person he wished didn't get to him set Ron off the easiest.  "You want us to believe you're on our side so you can turn us over to Daddy and his Death Eater mates.  Tell them where we're hiding.  Well, don't think you're going to fool me.  I'm onto you."

"Fool you?  You _sound like a bloody fool, yourself.  You don't need any assistance from me.  And don't talk about my father like that."_

"Why not?  Did I hit a nerve?"

"That -- that's very _simple_, Weasley.  I shouldn't have expected more out of you."  Malfoy huffed, pink spreading across his pale cheeks.  "Do you -- you know -- ever listen to yourself when you speak?"

"Sod off, Malfoy."

"Clever."

The curtain ripped back, exposing their room to the others, and Professor Valmont hung in the doorway before crossing the threshold.  Their shouts must have drawn the attention of the other students, or even the professor, himself.  He looked at Kerry on the bed and motioned to the doorway with his thumb.

"Go out to the meeting room, Kerry.  It's the large one that you first walked in when you got here.  We're having a meeting in about ten minutes."

Kerry stood, gave Valmont a smile, and left the room.  Valmont waited until he was gone before ordering the students in the next room to leave, and then pulled the curtain.  He turned, surveyed Draco and Ron, and sighed.

"What's going on in here?  Lavender Brown came to tell me she heard you fighting."

"Weasley accused me spy for the Death Eaters," said Malfoy.  The pink in his cheeks turned a shade deeper.

"I can't share a room with him, Professor," said Ron.  "He accused me of being here just because Harry had to leave Hogwarts."

"We just don't get along," said Malfoy.  Valmont rubbed at his temples.

"Back up.  Start from the beginning.  What happened?"

"Weasley came barreling through here, accused me of spying for Voldemort, and insinuated that Father is a Death Eater."

"Your father _is_ a Death Eater!"

"He has a point," said Valmont.

"Phoenix!" said Malfoy.

"All right, all right.  Ron?  Your side of the story?"

"I came in here like you told me.  Malfoy said I was only here because Harry had to leave, so I asked him what he was doing here.  I'm sorry if I don't trust him, but he's a Malfoy, and his father is a Death Eater."

"I think you forgot a few parts, Weasel."

"Okay, okay.  Stop!"  Valmont fixed Malfoy with his eyes as if trying to tell him something.  Malfoy froze.  His mouth hung open, a small gap separating his lips, and then he nodded.  He buried his hands in his pocket and dropped his eyes to the floor.  "We have limited space.  There's nothing I can do about this right now.  Until we're settled in, you two will have to make yourselves get along.  This isn't meant to be a pleasant situation.  I don't care how you do it, but learn to tolerate each other."

"I think you're asking for a lot more than is possible," said Malfoy.  Ron, strange as it felt, was in full agreement.

"Just do it, Draco.  And Ron, try to lay off the Death Eater comments.  Don't provoke him."

"Yes, sir."

Malfoy sniggered, causing Ron and Valmont to glare at him.

"What?" said Malfoy.

"That's not going to fly around here.  Respect, Draco.  Ron, get settled.  I imagine we'll be here for a while.  Be in the meeting area in ten minutes, though.  Sev and I want to have a few words with everyone."

"All right, Professor."

Valmont looked between the two one final time before exiting.  Moving away from the entrance, Ron walked to the empty bed and dropped his bag.  He sat, stretched out, and began to empty the little amount he brought along.  From the other side of the room, Malfoy leaned against the wall, watching Ron's every move.  It started to make him feel paranoid, but since he didn't want Valmont coming in again, Ron chose to ignore him.  That was the only way he and Malfoy were ever going to get along.

As Ron shoved his things in the corner of his bed, Malfoy pushed off from the wall and left the room.  The curtain rustled from Malfoy's exit, and Ron stared at the empty space Malfoy occupied.  That area of the room didn't look like it belonged to someone like Malfoy.  In fact, he brought very little more than Ron did.  Everything was in disarray, and it was only after Malfoy left that Ron realized dark circles hung under Malfoy's pale blue eyes.

Part sheepish, Ron crept out of the room.  Just because Malfoy didn't look so well and Valmont seemed to trust him, it didn't mean that Ron needed to trust him.  Then again, just because Malfoy had been a self-absorbed little git in the past did not mean that Ron should continue to hold that against him.  It was too hard to figure out, and Ron disposed of all thoughts Malfoy as he walked into the meeting room.  The effects were not good.  As soon as Ron entered, Valmont shoved him next to Malfoy and walked to the front with Snape.

"If everyone could just quiet down," said Valmont.  The room grew quiet and Snape motioned for Valmont to continue.  "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Phoenix Valmont.  Since we are not in a school setting, feel free to call me Phoenix.  I've already asked some of you to do this, but if you don't feel comfortable, Professor Valmont works, too.  Everyone should know Professor Snape.  You can call him Sevvie."

"Phoenix," said Snape, staring hard at Valmont.

"What is it, Sevvie?  I'm talking to the troops."  Snape remained unmoved.  "Oh, right.  He doesn't like being called Sevvie, but that never stopped anyone before, so go for it.  For those of you who are afraid he'll murder you, poison you, or the like, I'm here to tell you he's harmless."

"Get on with it, Phoenix."

"You're the one who interrupted me in the first place.  Now where was I?  Ah, yes.  Those of you who are here know that we've evacuated the people we could because of a vision depicting a Death Eater siege on Hogwarts.  For now it's just a precautionary.  If, by the morning, everything is fine at the school, Professor McGonagall will owl us, and we can return.  However, if we don't get a message, then things go on as planned.  There are just a few things Professor Snape and I wanted to let you know before we really get settled, so pay attention.  If Professor Snape gets really cranky, there might be a test.

"If you're a member of one of my classes, then this might sound familiar.  I am a big advocate of respect.  The first point I want you all to focus on is that everyone here is on the same side.  You need to first respect each other, and build up a trust, because without that trust, we're never going to win this war.  Each of you has been surveyed and deemed a trustworthy individual dedicated to fighting for this cause.  A lot of thought was put into who stayed and who left, so I want you to keep that all in mind."

"Thank you, Phoenix," said Snape, "for that charming speech on respect.  Is that your favorite word?"

"Actually, no.  My favorite word is audacity."

Snape shook his head and grinned at Valmont.  It was strange, foreign, and almost scary.  Several of the other students seemed to agree, for they took several steps away from him.

"Since we are no longer at Hogwarts," said Snape, "you will not be in a controlled learning setting.  There are three hideouts as you've, no doubt, already been informed.  At each of these camps, we'll do tutorial classes condensing anything that you may need to know for this war.  Also, each of these camps has a Master of one subject or another, and you will be assisting in any preparation needed."

"For example," said Valmont, "at this camp, we'll be making a lot of the Potions needed for battle, injury, and illness.  Sev will help you with making them.  Now, this is tying in with another policy, and this is how things are going to work around here:  if we don't receive an owl from Professor McGonagall, if the Death Eaters have taken over Hogwarts, it will only be a matter of time before they try to find those of us who escaped.  Thus, we instituted the Zero Magic Policy."

"You may keep your wands," said Snape, "but we ask that you do not use them.  Be reminded that the Ministry keeps a close eye on wand usage of underage wizards, and Death Eaters have already found their way into the Ministry system.  In addition, areas of highly concentrated magic are easily detected.  With that said, if everyone were to use magic, it would look strange that an area in the middle of nowhere would have so many wizards.  If only a few of you were to use magic, it would be detected by the Ministry anyway as almost all of you are underage."

"No magic," said Valmont.  "We cannot stress just how important this is.  I know some of you don't know how to function properly without magic, but you may not use it.  If you feel that you will not be able to survive without using your wand, you may go back to Hogwarts now.  If you'd prefer, Professor Snape or I can keep your wands for you.  That decision is entirely up to you."

"Another point is that we will not be sending messages by owl.  Owls can be intercepted, so we will be using human messengers," said Snape.  "Potions and messages that need to be sent to other hideouts will be sent with one, or even two, of you.  They'll be looking for owls before they look for people, so keep that in mind."

"A lot of what you'll see going on in these hideouts is keeping on our toes and paying attention to Death Eater activity.  We'll be focused on planning battle tactics, strategies, and attack formations to take back Hogwarts and get rid of Voldemort forever.  This is the way things will be at the other two camps, but for the Potion brewing and magic usage.  Hideout A is in a populated area and magic may be used there.  You'll learn healing charms there with Madam Pomfrey.  At Hideout C you'll practice Defense Against the Dark Arts and physical combat in the event that you lose your wand during battle."

"We start tomorrow," said Snape.  "I suggest you all get your sleep.  We are in for a difficult couple of months."

Malfoy hung back as everyone left the room, and Ron snuck a peek at him.  He stared at Valmont, those heavy bags hanging under his eyes.  As the room started to clear, Ron left without looking back.  Kerry was already under the thin blankets when Ron entered and crawled onto his own mattress.  Malfoy entered soon after, but Ron was asleep before Malfoy's head hit the pillow.

*

Blood stained the center panel of the vault door.  No words passed as the locks clicked with the sound that metal makes when it hasn't been touched in years.  The rusted metal made a sickening snap, and then screeched as the door opened.

Everything was dark and smelled like a foul combination of an old, stale room and sewage.  Broken stone lay weathered and eroded along the ground, and Ron avoided small piles of it as he walked.  Harry was by his side, wand in hand with a faint glowing at the end -- a result of the Lumos spell.  Fungus grew along the walls and ceiling, and reminded Ron of a terrifying combination of Aragog's lair and the Chamber of Secrets.  Needing to feel contact, he reached behind and grabbed the familiar hand which brought him the most comfort.

Walking ahead, Harry checked out the passageways.

"Blaise," he said, "left or right?"

Blaise Zabini passed Ron and walked to where Harry stood.  An old, yellowed sheet of parchment hung limp in his fingers.  Faded lines vibrant hundreds of years ago painted the way out of this hell.  He needed to be in the sun again, to feel its rays on his skin.  This place had a way of making someone feel dead and decayed, like the atmosphere which surrounded you.

"Right," said Blaise after studying the parchment.  "The fountain was said to be to the right."

"You better be right this time," said Malfoy.  "You said the vault door was to the right, and we ended up walking in circles."

"We walked in one circle," said Harry, frowning.  "We got it figured out, didn't we?"

"Don't you two start fighting again," said Blaise.  "Really, Draco, I've got it figured out this time.  I was unsure last time, remember?"

"I just want to get out of here."

It was when Malfoy tucked his left hand under his arm that Ron realized he held Malfoy's hand.  The fingers of his right hand curled around Ron's, and clasped tight enough that it was almost painful.  All coherent thought told Ron to let go.  Why would he want to be holding Malfoy's hand?  Except it felt wonderful and safe in a place just shy of being the worst he'd ever managed to find his way to.  That and Malfoy had really soft, exquisite skin.  It felt nice against Ron's palm.

"I don't know about this," said Ron.  He was talking more about the hand holding with Malfoy than anything else, but Malfoy nodded.

"Part of me wishes we would have never come down here in the first place.  But if we didn't -- I can't live with that kind of guilt.  If I can help and I turn my back on it because I'm scared --"

"Scared?"

Malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Terrified.  I don't know what's going to happen.  I don't know what I'm going to have to do.  It's all too big."

Ron didn't answer as the followed Blaise and Harry down the dark corridor.  Harry waved his wand back and forth, trying to see everything at one time.  The attempts were futile.  There was too much darkness and a simple Lumos spell would never give them enough light.  Malfoy dropped Ron's hand to wrap his arm around Ron's waist and rest his head on Ron's shoulder.

*

His eyes snapped open as Ron rolled over.  The room was dark, but that probably had a lot to do with the fact that there were no windows in the underground hideout.  Kerry Daubert lit candles the Muggle way with matches and set them around the room with the old oil lanterns.  He smiled upon seeing Ron awake, and carried a candle over to him.

"Phoenix said to set these around the hideout.  Not a lot of people are up yet.  Breakfast is in the meeting room.  It looked like some kind of porridge.  I think Snape made it.  You might want to think twice about eating it."

"Thanks for the warning."

Ron crawled out of the bed.  Malfoy was sprawled across his mattress, arm lying above his head.  His fingers were curled into a loose fist.  It made Ron think of the dream and of his own fingers wrapped in Malfoy's.  The skin on his palms itched as he thought if it and Ron rubbed them against his legs before walking out of the room.

In the meeting room, Valmont was eating a runny looking substance with the few students already awake.  He grinned at Ron and pushed an empty bowl toward him.

"Porridge is up at the front.  Sorry it isn't great, but we don't have a lot of options right now.  We didn't get an owl from Professor McGonagall.  Professor Snape is out tracking down a _Daily Prophet_ right now.  Hopefully McGonagall is just late.  I really don't want that vision to be right."

"You aren't the only one," said Ron.  He took the bowl from Valmont and headed for the front table where the large pot of porridge stood with several pitchers of water.  Once he had his food and drink, Ron returned to the tables and sat next to Valmont.

*

"What are you doing?  Phoenix needs you in the Potions lab," said Draco.

No word reached Hideout B from Hogwarts, and nothing was printed yet in the _Daily Prophet.  Snape intended to go out later for a copy of the _Evening Prophet_, but for now, things were going on as planned.  Ron had a headache and asked to be excused from any work for the day.  Snape actually let him go, too, but now here was Malfoy, screeching in his ear.  Ron groaned and rolled over onto his stomach._

"Snape said I didn't have to work today," said Ron, sitting up.  "I don't feel well.  In fact, I feel shitty."

"So what am I supposed to tell Phoenix?"

"I don't know.  That Snape said I didn't have to work today because I feel like I'm going to pass out?  How about that?"

"You don't have to get shirty with me, Weasley.  I'm only relaying a message."  Malfoy paused, staring at Ron, whose face had gone blank.  His limbs and shoulders twitched, Ron's eyes fixed on a point that Draco couldn't see.  "Weasley?  Weasley!  Shit."

Draco ran from the room and in the direction of the Potions lab.  He needed to find Snape or Phoenix, whoever he came across first would do just fine.  Snape was working with fifth years in the classroom today, which meant that they were going over battle strategies.  The Potions lab was closer, so Draco took a left and pushed through the curtains blocking the entrance.

"Phoenix!  You have to come quick!  I went to get Weasley and -- I don't know -- something's wrong with him."

"Okay.  Everyone stay here.  I don't want any of you to leave this room.  If I find out you did, there's going to be serious punishment."  Phoenix ran from behind the makeshift desk, followed Draco through the curtain and down the corridors.  They passed the same students hanging around when Draco made his way to the Potions lab and Phoenix slowed his pace in effort to keep a bit of a low profile.

"He's in here," said Draco, pushing open the curtains.  Ron sat comatose, his face blank, and eyes wide.  Phoenix took one look and hurried to his side.  "What's wrong?"

"He's having a vision," said Phoenix.  "He's not screaming so that's good.  Rebekah told me that he sometimes screams during the bad ones."

"A vis --"

"How was he before he went into it?  Was he okay?"

"He said that Snape let him off work for the day.  Said he felt like he was going to pass out."

"Bollocks.  All right.  Here, Draco, grab his legs and help me get him up.  We're going to move him to the infirmary.  The visions really drain him, and if he wasn't feeling well before this one . . . he's having too many too fast.  Rebekah said it happens sometimes when they first get them -- they need to adjust and learn how to take them."

Draco and Phoenix carried Ron out of the room and into the infirmary.  When they arrived, Snape was pulled back the curtains around one of the beds and helped them put Ron into it.

"I heard you went to see Weasley," said Snape.  "One of the students saw you heading for his room and came to tell me."

"He had a vision so we brought him here," said Phoenix.  "We should have sent him to Hideout C with Rebekah.  She'd have handled this better."

"Becky would have been just as lost as you are.  She's not used to this any more than you."

"But she understands it."

"Don't even dare to tell me you don't understand something, Phoenix."

Draco snickered, sitting on one of the unoccupied beds.

"And what do you find so funny?" said Phoenix.

"Nothing.  So what is this about visions?"

"Visions.  Ron's a Seer.  He's been taking Rebekah's Advanced Prognostics class this year."

Looking from Phoenix to Ron, Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," said Snape.  "Listen, Phoenix, I need to get back to my class.  Can you get him a potion for when he comes out of it?  Give him the day to rest and keep him here overnight.  Depending on how he fares, we might need to keep him here tomorrow, too."

"Okay.  Draco, can you sit here with him in case he wakes while I'm gone?"

"No problem."

"Thanks."

Phoenix and Snape left the room, and Draco's eyes settled on Ron.  His breathing slowed to the pace that one maintains while sleeping.  He remained unmoved from the way he was when they first brought him in.  Ron's eyes were still, Seeing everything and nothing at all.  Draco shifted on the unoccupied bed, and almost fell off when Ron gasped, sucking in air.

"God, Weasley, you scared me," said Draco, clutching his chest.

"Oh, my head," said Ron.

"Phoenix is coming with a potion."  Ron grunted and Malfoy slid off the bed, approaching him.  "He told me you were having a vision.  Thought I killed you for a moment."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Funny, I bet Phoenix would have said the same thing."

"Why aren't you fighting with me?"

Malfoy frowned.  "Because you scared the shit out of me?"

"Good answer."

"You're really a Seer?"

"Yes, I'm really a Seer."

"You're up," said Valmont, walking into the room.  In his hand was a vial filled with a bright amber liquid and a bag.  "Drink this.  It'll help with the headache."  Ron took the vial and tipped the contents down his throat.  "You okay?  I was saying how it would have probably been better to send you with Rebekah.  I don't know what to do when someone has a vision."

"I feel terrible."

"Worn out.  Yeah, I know.  Draco wasn't giving you any problems, was he?"

"None at all."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Shut up, Phoenix," said Malfoy, sitting on the unused bed again.

"You two fight a lot," said Ron.  "And you told me not to fight with him."\

"You aren't allowed to fight with him.  For me, it's a right."

"That you abuse," said Malfoy.  Valmont grinned at Ron and smacked Malfoy over the head.

"Isn't he such a little dork?"

"I'm going to tell Snape you were beating me up again.  Corporal punishment is not allowed."

"Not at Hogwarts, but it's perfectly acceptable in Hideout B.  Listen, Ron, here's the details.  Sev doesn't want you doing anything for the rest of the day but occupying this bed.  You're supposed to stay here tonight as well.  Maybe tomorrow if that head of yours doesn't improve."

Ron nodded.

"Also, there are a few things I need to talk to you about.  One of them is those visions of yours."

"I don't really like to talk about them," said Ron.  "Not unless I have to."

"Well," said Phoenix, pulling something out of the bag, "I have something to show you.  Then we'll decide if you want to talk about those visions of yours.  Draco, I want you to stay here for this.  Remember in class when we started the Prophecy of Absconditus?"

"Yeah," said Ron.  Malfoy nodded.

"In class I didn't even begin to cover all the details of the legend, but I'm sure you've both figured there was a reason I wanted to teach it if I made room for it before Halloween.  The reason why I wanted to teach it to you is because that it's a popular theory the Mages have been reborn in this time.  You remember me telling you about the souls being bound for the Mages to return?"

"The Mages are back?" said Malfoy.  Valmont shrugged.

"It looks it.  Here, take a look.  And that's only the beginning."  He handed an old copy of the _Daily Prophet to Draco.  "The second of November, 1981.  Just after Voldemort disappeared.  Same issue, in fact, with the report of Sirius Black's conviction to Azkaban."_

"Where did you get this?"

"Father's had it for years.  I think he reads over it and weeps."

"Father?" said Ron.

"What?" said Malfoy.  "Haven't you figured it out yet, Weasley?  Such a shock."

"Draco, don't taunt, or I'll have to beat you again," said Phoenix.  "It's okay, Ron.  We never really explained.  You see, Draco is my younger brother."

"Your younger --"

"Yes, I know.  But my last name isn't Malfoy.  But we look nothing alike."

"Actually, you look a lot alike," said Ron.  "It explains a few things in that area."

"Really?  You think?"  Valmont winced, looking at Malfoy.  "Well, you know.  I'll explain all in due time.  First things first, though.  The article.  The Mages.  The thing we're depending on most to defeat Voldemort."

Draco walked over to where Ron lay, carrying the old _Prophet article with him.  He stood next to the bed and held the paper so that they could both read._

**THE PROPHECY OF THE FOUR MAGES**

_The Prophecy of the Four Mages is an intricate one.  In a time of uncertainty and corruption, four wizards from different walks of life each held a gift.  One held immortality, one held foresight, another time, and lastly strength.  Each was mysteriously cursed, tried for murder, and sentenced to death, their gifts to be taken to achieve ultimate power of the government.  On the eve of their judgment day, they disappeared never to be seen again._

_          Legend holds they scattered their magic in Absconditus and together collapsed the city.  Determined to find revenge, they bound their souls together to reunite centuries later when evil reigned freely once again.  Only their blood together in a new life could unseal the city._

_          Supposedly, in the center of Absconditus there was a beautiful fountain.  The fountain is said to be the only visible point of the universal web of magic.  Believers claim the fall of the city crushed the fountain, the threads cut off from returning to the rest of the realm and wizarding world.  Of the time of the Mages and centuries still, the fountain collects magic.  Belief has it that to gain entrance to Absconditus is to evoke this massive collection being the first outlet in over a millennium._

_          The founding of __Hogwarts__ _School___ of Witchcraft and Wizardry has never been without controversy.  No doubt, the reason being the Mages only bloodlines lain in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.  Reports have shown unexplainable surges in the level of activity at the school; the most popular theory remains the fountain resides beneath the enchanted castle.  There has been another oddity at the school.  Never has an heir from each of the founding families resided in the same year, and strangely, the complete trace of all four families is nowhere to be found.  Such renowned blood does not often disappear without notice or documentation._

_          If legend holds true, each Mage will be reborn into their families, will show unusual signs of their magic, and will learn the craft at __Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry together when our time is uncertain and the future of magic is at risk.  Will these four saviors show?  Is wizard legend true?  As for me, I can only hope so._

_          Death Eaters have loomed.  Voldemort has disappeared.  For now the time seems safe once again, all due to the late James Potter's son who survived.  How can a young babe possibly survive the killing curse when so many before failed?  A baby, defenseless, innocent, and a Potter, no less -- Could this be our first Mage?  One thing is certain; all eyes will be on young Harry Potter and his time at Hogwarts._

"Does this mean -" said Draco.  He frowned.  "Is Potter a Mage?"  Phoenix nodded.

"Yes.  Harry is one of the four Mages.  In fact, popular theory suggests that may be the reason Voldemort wanted to kill him in the first place.  Get rid of the Mages while he still can."

"What about the other three?  The article says that all four should be at Hogwarts in our year."

"Well, that depends.  Ron, are you ready to tell us about your vision?"

Draco's brow furrowed and he looked to Ron, frowning.  Ron stared at the article in the old issue of the wizarding newspaper.  He tried to focus on how old the printing looked, how worn the paper was.  No longer able to procrastinate, he looked to Phoenix.

"I'm a Mage, aren't I?" he said at last.  "I'm Ryan."

"Yeah.  You are."

**Review, or I'll send my flying monkeys after you.**


	8. Revealed

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name:  AndromedanQueen**

**Title:  The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Wherein there is a lot to explain and things are gross.**

**See previous chapters for information on disclaimers, archiving, etc.**

**_Chapter Eight:  Revealed_**

"Wait," said Malfoy, "Weasley's a Mage?" 

"I always thought you might be," said Valmont.  "I've been interested in the Prophecy for years, and Harry's practically proven a Mage.  A time when the future of magic is uncertain?  There wasn't a much better time than when Harry was born.  When you were born."

"Phoenix --"

"Ever since Rebekah told me you were a Seer, I had my suspicions.  A pureblood with foresight in Harry's year?  You may as well had a blinking sign above your forehead!"

"Phoenix --"

"Imagine my excitement.  I've always been fascinated by the Prophecy because it's such a mystery, and to be finding the Mages in my time --"

"Phoenix!"

"Draco, what are you babbling about?"

Malfoy glared at Valmont.

"Me, babbling?  What about you?"

"Sorry, but this is a momentous occasion."

"Why?  Because Weasley isn't insignificant?  Don't fool yourself.  Mage or not, Weasley will never be worth anything."

"Malfoy, do you ever do anything but insult people and stare at yourself in the mirror?"

"Very observant of you, Weasel.  How ever did you manage to pull yourself away from Potter's feet to figure that one out?"

"Stop it before I'm forced to attack," said Valmont.  He fixed Draco with his eyes, and then looked to Ron.  "Draco, if you can't be a little more mature, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.  This Mage business is more important than you seem to think."

"It can't be that important if Weasley is a part of it."

"Voldemort is strong enough, cunning enough, to siege Hogwarts.  Before Harry was born, he wasn't that strong, and he had been collecting power for eleven years.  He's had a body for little over two and is already this powerful.  We don't have the means to stop him.  No matter how many battle plans we come up with, unless we find something else, we're all dead.  Even you."

"What do you mean by something else?" said Ron.  Valmont tried to mask the smile that spread across his face, but it shone through.  Malfoy scowled.

"You read the article.  The Mages are supposed to save the wizarding world, and the focal point is that fountain.  I figure they've got to get to it and tap into that magic.  It may not guarantee survival, but without it, there is no hope."

"I can't believe my future rests in you," said Malfoy, sneering.  "You and Potter.  We may as well start digging our graves."

"There's two more Mages, you know," said Valmont.

"But Potter and Weasley?  And Weasley was Ryan?  Wasn't Ryan the Prince?"

Valmont nodded.  "Prince Ryan Alcor."

"Weasley, what did you do in that last life to go from being a Prince to being -- well -- what you are?"

"And what am I?"

"Pathetic."

"Draco, what did I tell you?"  Malfoy looked to Valmont and shrugged.  "Try to get along, will you?"

"Fine.  Weasley's a Prince.  Who was Potter?  The bastard child?" 

"Actually, you know, when souls are bound -- well, gender isn't always remembered -- and --"

"Potter was the woman?" 

Malfoy's eyes grew larger than Ron thought they could.  Ron knew he should have been shocked by this revelation.  Harry would go crazy when told, but Ron found it came natural to hear, and perhaps this had a bit to do with the fact her (or his) name had been Hero.  Isn't that how the wizarding world saw Harry?  The jokes would be fun, though.

"Does Harry know about this?" said Ron.

"I'm not sure.  Rebekah -- we've been figuring this out together, and we split you up to tell you.  It's her job to tell Harry, though I don't know when or how she'll do it.  I wasn't sure when I would, either, but you gave me an excellent opportunity."

"Potter was a woman?"

"Draco, yes, and don't you dare taunt him about it.  If he takes it the way Rebekah and I expect -- well, let's just say that Harry will not be comfortable with it for awhile."

"I agree," said Ron.

"But he was a she!  She was a slave!  This is too funny."

"Hero Veriatice was a slave because her parents racked up outstanding debts that couldn't be paid any other way.  She had no way out because her father murdered her mother and was beheaded."

"Wait," said Draco, turning to Ron and grinning, "didn't Ryan get Hero pregnant?"  Valmont turned bright red.

"Well -- actually --"

"No," said Ron, shaking his head.  He hadn't realized he spoke until Valmont and Malfoy looked to him, waiting for more.

"No?" said Valmont.  "History records show that Hero Veriatice was pregnant when she was sentenced to die.  Her curse -- and Ryan Alcor's -- was that the baby be lost, and just after Rune was born, furies kidnapped him."

"The baby wasn't Ryan's -- mine.  They were misinformed.  They -- Starvos overheard Hero telling me that she was pregnant and assumed it was mine, but he was wrong.  I was never connected to Hero that way."  Valmont stared, his mouth gaping.  "I had a vision."

"You -- you had a vision about this?" 

"I have a lot of visions as Ryan.  My first -- actually, I think my first one was when Absconditus collapsed.  I told Professor Leiss about it.  She was just as confused as I was, because she said it sounded like a past life recall, only wizards are single-natured.  I suppose she figured it out by now.  Ryan and Hero were not lovers."

"Who was the father, then?  And why didn't Ryan Alcor lose anything by the curse?"

"Because whoever cursed me already thought I lost something with the baby.  They never stopped to think that Starvos might have been wrong.  Hero and I were close -- she was my handmaid for years – but she wasn't my lover.  Ryan and Bade were lovers."

"Weren't they stepbrothers?" said Malfoy, his upper lip curling.  Valmont's eyes grew huge.  He looked like Malfoy had only moments before, and it was all too easy to see the family resemblance.  Ron shivered.

"Yeah, they were stepbrothers.  That doesn't mean they weren't lovers."

Valmont glanced from Ron to Draco, and then back to Ron again.

"Are you sure?  Bade and Ryan?  Ryan and Bade?  Lovers?"

"Well, if they weren't, then Bade better explain why he stuck his tongue down my throat."

"That's just -- that's incredible."

"I have a question," said Ron, picking at the edge of the sheets.

"What?"

"Are you sure about all of this?  I mean . . . me?  I'm not --"

"I agree," said Draco.  "A Weasley a Mage?  These Mages are supposed to be special."

"Well, let's go over a few things, and you let me know when things start sounding familiar.  Okay, Ron?"

He shook his head, shrugging.  "Sure." 

"Ryan Sloan Alcor was born on the twenty-eighth of February in 352 to Reegan and Alexis Alcor.  Alexis died when Ryan was six, and Reegan remarried to Larrissa Mizar.  By the time he was thirteen, the people of Absconditus dubbed Ryan 'The Forgotten Alcor.'  Reegan wasn't a great king, and he wasn't a bad king, he was just a king, and is remembered because he was Absconditus's last.  Because Starvos was the elder brother and heir to the throne, he and Larrissa took up Reegan's time, leaving little for Ryan, which was where the title came about. 

"Hero Veriatice had been a slave to the Alcors from the time she was seven.  Larrissa and Ryan never got along; history reports that they fought whenever they were in the presence of the other.  She appointed Hero to Ryan as a joke, because Hero was weak and pathetic.  When he became her friend, he was looked upon as even more of a black sheep. 

"He had the gift of foresight –- he, too, was a Seer -- and it earned him a place in the Knight Court.  Shortly after, Starvos exposed Hero's pregnancy, and the public stoned her.  Days later, Starvos and Reegan were found dead.  Ryan was the primary suspect.  He was accused of plotting the murder of his father and brother, and sentenced to die. 

"Still not sure if you're Ryan?" 

"It feels like a dream that happened a long time ago, but it's familiar." 

"It should be.  It was your life.  You see, it's a popular theory among those who follow the Prophecy that the four Mages will each be in different houses here at Hogwarts.  You read the article.  All four are supposed to learn the craft together at Hogwarts in the same year.  It's almost taboo to suggest that two of the Mages could be in the same house, but I'm not convinced of that theory. 

"You see, you were much easier to trace than Harry was.  The only survivor of the Veriatice line was the baby, Rune, but he was kidnapped by furies.  But then, I discovered, twenty years later, a man by the name of Rune Potter arrived in England.  There's no record of where he came from, and Godric Gryffindor can be traced as a direct descendent." 

"Big surprise.  Potter's the Gryffindor Mage.  Heir to Gryffindor, is he?  Only one problem.  You need an heir from each of the founding families.  Voldemort is the heir to Slytherin," said Malfoy.  Valmont grinned. 

"Draco, you're such a simple creature.  Didn't father ever teach you about the Malfoy line?  How about you, Ron?  Do you know the history of the Weasley family?" 

"A little more than I'd care to," said Ron, nodding.  "When I was little, my grandfather insisted that we learn the history of our family, where we came from." 

"Then it isn't much of a surprise to you if I tell you that until two hundred years ago, all the Weasleys were in Ravenclaw." 

"Aren't Ravenclaws supposed to be smart?" said Malfoy.  "Weasley doesn't fit that description." 

"Not that I'm not offended, but I'm not in Ravenclaw," said Ron.  "I'm a Gryffindor.  All he said was that the Weasleys used to be in Ravenclaw." 

"You two bicker like an old married couple," said Valmont. 

"Don't say that," said Malfoy. 

"Anyway, if you know about the Ravenclaw history, do you know about the twins?  The origin of the Weasley name?" 

Ron fell silent and looked to Malfoy from the corner of his eye. Malfoy fell quiet, clasped his hands in his lap, and stared at the ground.  His back hunched.  It was almost impossible to tell if you weren't looking for it, which was unfortunate, because Ron was.  Malfoy knew. 

"I learned about it when I was seven.  I remember because it was all I could think about for weeks.  Especially since I already knew about the feud." 

"Good.  You already know about the connection.  That makes things easier.  Do you know who the twins were born to?"  Malfoy and Ron shook their heads.  Valmont nodded.  "It isn't common knowledge.  I found it researching the Alcor line by accident several years ago.  Surprised me, too." 

"Would you get on with it?  Honestly, it's no wonder people avoid you." 

"Watch your mouth.  You sound more and more like Father every day." 

"That was cruel." 

"It was honest.  Now keep your tongue while I'm trying to talk." 

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Valmont.  Ron's head felt as if it was spinning.  This was surreal.  His mind tried to wrap itself around Valmont and Malfoy being brothers, to process how that could be possible.  As hard as it was to accept, though, watching the two fight like he did with Fred and George made it a lot easier. 

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted . . ." Valmont glared at Malfoy.  "Harry is a direct descendent of his own child.  The Potter line first appeared with Rune out of nowhere.  There is no history before except for the vague suggestion that Rune Potter may have been the child of Hero Veriatice and Ryan Alcor, although you said the baby wasn't Ryan's." 

"It was Lorenzo," said Ron.  "Lorenzo was the father." 

"Blaise," said Valmont. 

"Zabini?" said Draco. 

"Yeah.  Blaise was Lorenzo Merak.  He was the easiest to trace of all four Mages.  Helga Hufflepuff was a descendent of Casey Merak, Lorenzo's brother.  Then she married into the Zabini family.  Blaise comes from there.  Though you wouldn't believe how many of the Meraks I had to go through to find Casey.  He was the youngest of the ten." 

"Zabini is the Hufflepuff descendent?" said Malfoy.  "But he's in Slytherin.  How does that work?" 

"Ron isn't the Gryffindor descendent.  That's Harry.  The Zabinis have always been neutral in the wars.  They slip under the radar, and they are in this one as well.  The Meraks and the Hufflepuffs were the same way.  Probably one of the reasons Helga was so attracted to the family.  Just because he has Hufflepuff blood in him doesn't mean he belongs in that house." 

"Hufflepuffs do not belong in Slytherin." 

"Oh, get off your pedestal.  I'm the Prince around here, not you." 

"You know what, Weasley --"

"No, Malfoy, I don't.  Why don't you tell me?" 

"There you go again," said Valmont.  "Bickering like an old couple." 

"Are you going to continue to do this just to annoy me?" said Malfoy.  "Or is this some attempt to shut us up?" 

"Both.  Or neither.  I'm not sure yet.  May I continue?  The faster I get done with this, the faster you can leave." 

"Please, then.  And hurry it up." 

"If you'd stop interrupting me, I could.  Now where was I?" 

"Zabini being a Hufflepuff." 

"And Harry being a descendent of himself," said Ron. 

"Oh, right.  Well, like I said, Godric Gryffindor was born to a Gryffindor and a Potter descended from Rune.  In fact, historians and genealogy suggests that the Potters may not have been human at all until Rune came into the line.  I'm sure you've heard that." 

"I didn't," said Malfoy, grinning.  "The Potters weren't even human.  That's rich." 

"I heard about it," said Ron.  "My grandfather knew Harry's.  They -- er -- didn't get along very well.  In fact, Harry's grandfather tried to kill mine once.  He tells the story anytime someone will listen.  He finds it humorous."  Ron frowned.  "My grandfather is kind of strange." 

"On your father's side?" said Valmont.  Ron nodded.  "Maddock Weasley used to teach Pureblood Ancestry and Mythology when I went to school at Hogwarts.  I thought you might know a lot already thanks to him.  He was one of my favorite teachers.  A little out of sorts, though." 

"A lot out of sorts," said Ron. 

"Well, you know.  But, yes.  The first human blood in the Potter line belonged to Rune.  After him, it came down to Medea Potter, who married Orestes Gryffindor.  Centuries later, the Gryffindor line united with the Potters again, and it went through several generations until James, and then Harry." 

"The Potters were furies," said Malfoy. 

"Though, to be perfectly fair, there is no fury in Harry's blood," said Valmont.  "It's just that the Potters kidnapped Hero's baby.  And you're one to talk with that veela in you." 

"You have it, too." 

"Malfoys have veela in them?" said Ron. 

"It's several generations old, but still enough to make us slightly temperamental.  Or annoyingly temperamental in Draco's case.  Now, the twins are more interesting." 

"More interesting than Potter coming from furies?" 

"I told you to stop interrupting me."  Malfoy smirked at Valmont.  "I'm not sure who to tell you is your Hogwarts founder.  Technically, you come from both the Ravenclaw and the Slytherin line." 

"Slytherin?" said Ron the same time Malfoy said, "What?"  Valmont snickered. 

"Yes, the Weasleys comes from both the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw line.  Rowena Ravenclaw was married, but she never had children.  Her younger sister -- Risika -- married Salazar Slytherin only months before Hogwarts was founded.  The Ravenclaws can be traced back to Stephan Alcor, a cousin of Reegan Alcor.  Salazar, and this is interesting, can be traced back to Reynaldo Lynx.  Together, they had five children, four of which were boys.  The two oldest were twins, Terence and Cane Slytherin.  Growing up, all eyes were on them, especially when it was time for them to go to Hogwarts.  Terence was in Slytherin like his father, but Cane was in Ravenclaw. 

"After leaving Hogwarts, sick of being referred to as two of the Hogwarts Babies -- a name that was given to all the children of the Founders -- they changed their surname.  Terence and Cane tried to disassociate themselves from the title ever since it was given.  This was the only option that seemed to work.  Slytherin, who was going through several feuds with Godric Gryffindor at that time, was not pleased.  His sons were disinherited, and the third son, Androcles, became the official heir.  That should answer your question about how Voldemort could be Slytherin's last heir, and yet have a Mage descend from Slytherin." 

"Voldemort is a descendent of Androcles?" said Malfoy. 

"Exactly." 

"Does that mean that Weasley and Voldemort are related?" 

Valmont stared, his face blank. 

"I -- I suppose so." 

"Talk about the black sheep of the family," said Malfoy.  "And here I thought your father was the crazy one." 

The absurdity of the statement hit Ron.  It was so insane it was funny.  Ron tried not to laugh, but couldn't resist.  Related to You-Know-Who when Ron couldn't even say his name?  He would have thought Valmont was mental if it weren't for his grandfather.  Most of the story Ron already knew.  Valmont only filled in the blanks. 

"I'm glad you find it funny," said Valmont.  Ron choked on his breath as he tried not to laugh. 

"Could -- could you imagine -- family -- reunions?" said Ron, clutching to his blankets.  Malfoy snickered. 

"Once you've laughed yourself into an aneurysm, may I continue?" 

"Go ahead."  Ron tried to keep a straight face as Valmont sighed. 

"Anyway, the two brothers each decided to start their own line.  Terence suggested that they choose surnames with similar meanings behind them, and so they became Cane Weasley and Terence Malfoy." 

"The Malfoy-Weasley connection," said Malfoy.  "Father says it's the single most disgusting piece of wizarding history, and that Terence was smart to disassociate himself from Cane." 

"Actually, they found it extremely entertaining," said Valmont.  "Just think on it.  Weasley and Malfoy.  Weasel and bad faith." 

"At least our line picked something adequate." 

"Bad faith, Draco." 

"It's French."  Valmont's upper lip curled.  Malfoy snickered.  "You're more prejudiced than I am." 

"If I was prejudiced, it's only because I was raised by Lucius Malfoy." 

"All right, all right," said Malfoy.  "So that explains the first three Mages.  What about the fourth?" 

Valmont arched an eyebrow, staring hard at Malfoy. 

"Oh, Merlin," said Ron, covering his mouth with his hand.  Valmont turned his attention to Ron. 

"Have you figured it out?" 

"Oh, Merlin.  He's Bade.  Oh -- oh -- oh, gross.  I -- Ryan -- oh, that's so gross." 

"What's so gross?" said Malfoy.  "Someone want to clue me in?" 

"You're thicker than I thought," said Valmont.  "Father's worn down your brain cells over the years.  You used to be quicker than this." 

"That is so gross!" 

"Would you shut up, Weasley?" 

"Old married couple." 

"Don't say that," said Ron. 

"What is your problem?" said Malfoy. 

"Honestly, would you stop for a second and just use that lump in your head most people call a brain," said Valmont.  "Ron's a descendent from Ravenclaw and Slytherin because the twins were born to a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin.  We're categorizing him as a Ravenclaw because Cane Weasley was a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts.  For centuries, all the Weasleys were in Ravenclaw.  Risika and Rowena were descendants of the Alcor line." 

"What are you getting at?" 

"You're the Mage, you moron," said Ron.  "You're Bade Mizar." 

"What?"

Valmont nodded.

"Sorry, Draco, but true.  Our line starts with Terence Malfoy, and we're direct descendents.  Terence comes from Salazar.  Salazar descends from Reynaldo Lynx, and he was related to Bade's father.  Bade's father was unknown, but Lynx makes references to him as a cousin.  That much is known."

"How -- I can't be a Mage."

"Why not?"

"Well, to start with, I would never bind my soul to Potter's." 

Valmont rolled his eyes. 

"You might not, but Bade would." 

"But if I'm Bade --"

"Bade Mizar was not raised by Lucius Malfoy." 

"Stop blaming everything on Father.  He's not responsible for everything that's wrong with us, you know.  Mother is just as much to blame." 

"Fine, but I veto your first reason.  You might never bind your soul to Harry's, but Bade would bind his to Hero's.  Next reason?" 

"I would never fuck Weasley." 

"I told you it was gross," said Ron. 

"Same principle.  You might never do it, but Bade seemed to think Ryan wasn't so bad.  Veto." 

"Fine.  Then how, exactly, did this happen?  Why are we here?  What are we supposed to do?  Because, honestly, I don't think I'm cut out for this.  Looking good, that I can do.  But this?" 

"Besides being a shitty piece of journalism," said Valmont, brandishing the old _Daily Prophet, "this gives the basis, a lot of which I'm skeptical about. _

"The only thing I can tell you is that you need to go into Absconditus.  You need to find the entrance, and you need to get in.  That fountain needs to be found, because without it, we're lost. 

"Alecto bound the souls of the four Mages for a reason." 

"Wait.  Who's Alecto?" said Malfoy. 

"Alecto was the oracle of Absconditus at the time of the fall.  She was also a Keeper by the original name of Livia.  That should sound familiar."  Malfoy hesitated, and then nodded. 

"Does she know?" 

"She has no idea," said Valmont.  "I don't know how to break that to her yet.  I mean, she knows something is up.  She always has ever since Father decided to have a little fun with her, and just between the three of us, I think Mother was behind that." 

"I think Mother was behind a lot of what Father has done." 

"For once you and I are in complete agreement.  But as I was saying, Alecto was an oracle in Absconditus.  It's from Alecto that the Prophecy originates.  When the Mages were to die, their gifts were to be taken, right?  She foresaw that they were innocent, and if their gifts were to be taken, the times would grow dark and the wizarding world would be destroyed.  Because it was innocent blood that would be taken, Alecto went to the four and told them of what she had foreseen.  Ryan was the first to believe her.  He had the gift as well and knew what was coming, but once they had believed her, he was the most reluctant to comply. 

"They were already decreed to die.  There was no other choice to set things right but to bind their souls.  When the future was uncertain again, the Mages would return with the people who had condemned them.  The real murderers of King Reegan and Starvos Alcor would return, as would the Mages and Alecto.  Of course, Alecto, being a Keeper, would have been back anyway, but, you know." 

"If Voldemort -- in this time -- is the one trying to take over the wizarding world, does that mean he was the one who murdered Reegan and Starvos?" said Malfoy.  "And if he was, and he can be traced to Lynx, does that mean it was Lynx who killed them?" 

"It's possible that it was Lynx," said Valmont.  "I'm almost certain he was the one who committed the murders." 

"Who are the blonde women?" said Ron, more to himself than anyone else.  Valmont and Malfoy frowned. 

"What blonde women?" said Malfoy. 

"From your vision?" said Valmont.  Ron nodded.  "Great question.  Haven't figured that one out yet." 

"What blonde women?" 

"During Ron's vision of the siege --"

"The siege --"

"He saw Voldemort with two blonde women.  One was bound, and the other was free.  Voldemort shook hands with Dumbledore, bound him, and then freed the bound blonde.  That's where the theory about someone switching with Dumbledore came from." 

"You had the vision of the siege?" 

Ron didn't answer.  He looked to Valmont, refusing to meet Malfoy's eyes.  It was unsettling, the way Malfoy stared. 

"You know," said Valmont, "I think that's enough for today.  Ron, I want you to get some rest.  We're going to need you for a lot more than visions." 

"Okay." 

Valmont gave him a soft smile, grabbed Malfoy by the arm, and they both left.  Ron leaned back against the wall, and tried to process everything he was just told.  He expected it to feel more shocking.  How natural it felt was more of the shock than anything else.  It was familiar, like a long ago memory that just resurfaced.  The hardest thing to accept was Malfoy.  Not because Malfoy was Valmont's brother, though that still tripped him out, or that Malfoy was fighting against the Death Eaters rather than with them. 

Malfoy was Bade.  Bade was Malfoy.  Being Ryan felt nothing but right to Ron.  He could accept it far easier than he could accept being Weasley number six, but Malfoy?  Malfoy as Bade?  Vision after vision as Ryan had displayed Bade as a dedicated lover, and Ron loved him for it. 

The first time, he told Rebekah about it, and she assured him that there was nothing wrong with it.  Ron hadn't been sure how he felt.  He didn't think he was gay, but Bade was too perfect to be bothered with labels like that.  With each vision, Ron found himself falling in love.  It was disturbing to love a man he'd only seen in visions.  Now that he was Ryan, it made a lot more sense, but for Malfoy to be Bade felt blasphemous. 

Lying back, Ron decided to take Valmont up on his advice.  He needed sleep, and a lot of it.  Hoping he wouldn't dream of Bade (or Malfoy), Ron prepared himself for sleep.

**Once again, really sorry about the delay.****   My routine was screwed up by classes, snow, and family emergencies.  Will be back on schedule next Tuesday.**


	9. Merger

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein Ryan is accused, there is more to be learned, and Lucius isn't up to anything anymore.**

**Disclaimer:  Harry Potter and its industry belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Scholastic, ****Bloomsbury****, etc.  I am not included in that etc.  I own Ryan, Bade, and the Absconditus gang.  The plot is my own.  Get it.  Got it?  Good.**

**I think you'll all been warned that this will be slash enough times, and what slash means.  You've been warned.**

**_Chapter Nine:  Merger_**

"Draco!"

Valmont's shrieks woke Ron the next morning.  At first, he thought it must still be night out due to the darkness of the room.  He wondered who would call Malfoy's name this early in the morning in Gryffindor Tower when he remembered that he wasn't in Gryffindor Tower.  He wasn't in Hogwarts at all.  He was lying in a makeshift hospital bed in Hideout B.

"Phoenix?"

Groggy –- it was nothing like Ron had ever heard out of Malfoy before.  He didn't even sound peeved off like Ron would have expected of Malfoy in the morning.  Then again, every time he thought of Malfoy, it was something unpleasant coming out of his mouth.  Sitting up in bed, Ron strained his ears to hear what was happening.  Something shuffled behind the curtain, matching hurried footsteps.

"What are you screaming about?  What time is it?  Shouldn't you be sleeping like a normal human being?"

"He's dead."

Silence.

"Who's dead?"

"Dad.  Father.  He's dead."  Valmont's voice was strained.  It sounded like he had been crying before screaming for his younger brother.  "Sev just came back.  He went down into the village for a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ to see if there was anything about a siege.  It was on the front page."

"Where's the article?"

Papers shuffled and then there was silence again.  Malfoy must have been reading the article about his father.  Heavy breathing broke the silence, though whether it was Valmont's or Malfoy's, Ron couldn't be sure.  Paper rustled again.

"She killed him.  I know she did," said Malfoy.

That uneasy silence returned.  Ron shifted in his bed, trying to hear anything at all.  He listened to whispers he couldn't decipher, and then footsteps padded in his direction.  He pulled the covers up to his chin and tried to look asleep.  Valmont yanked back the curtains and walked next to the bed.

"I know you're up.  I heard you shifting."

Ron peered over the covers.  Pale blue eyes were violet with red, bloodshot, an unattractive result from the crying.  Milk white skin returned from its former pink and blotchy state.  His golden blond hair flopped over his forehead in disarray, a strange contrast to the meticulous style he usually wore.  It was unsettling.

"Is Lucius really dead?"

Valmont's Adam's apple bounced as he swallowed.  "Yeah.  His body washed up out of the Thames last night.  A bunch of Muggles found him.  Can you imagine my father found by Muggles?  Our mother identified him.  She was conveniently in London when it happened.  Anyway, the Muggles reported that he drowned.  The Daily Prophet reported that someone put the body bind on him then threw him in the river.  He had Petrificus Totalus on him when they did the autopsy."

"Do they know who did it?"

"Nothing's been confirmed, but Draco thinks it was our mother.  I have to agree.  Our father was never the smartest man, and Mother was behind a lot of the things he did.  You know, he first joined the Death Eaters because he thought the Dark Mark was very stylish.  Always said evil looked smashing.  Not all there, my father.

"On a brighter note, how are you feeling today?"

"Better.  Not good."

"Sev will want you to stay in bed.  We'll be all right without you for now.  All we're doing is Potions work.  The _Prophet_ posted an article about the Hogwarts siege.  The Death Eaters seem angry that Harry wasn't there.  There's even a reference to the Prophecy.  It's quite funny, actually.  The first line in the article has something to do with Harry escaping the siege and that the wizarding world need not worry.  I think they use the word clutches."

"Harry'll love that."

"Not really keen on his fame, is he?"

"Not at all."

"I'll bring you a Potion for your head later.  Sev's working in the lab today.  I'm just milling around, taking care of you, and making sure everyone knows what's going on.  May have to grieve a bit as well.  I wasn't especially close to my father in later years, but things were different when I was younger.  Anyway, I'll send Draco in later on.  Do try to get along with him."

"I'll try."

"Thank you.  I'll see you later, then."

"Bye." 

Valmont disappeared through the curtains leaving Ron alone.  Next to his bed on a worn wooden table was a copy of today's _Daily Prophet_.  Sure enough, the article about Lucius's death followed a picture on the front page.  On the other side of the page was the siege.

**DEATH EATERS AT HOGWARTS**

_Harry Potter has once again escaped the clutches of Death Eaters._

_          On Halloween night, sixteen years after You-Know-Who disappeared, Death Eaters infiltrated __Hogwarts__ _School___ of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Albus Dumbledore, headmaster, was once said to be the only person You-Know-Who feared.  Indeed, no one has ever tried to lay siege on the school before._

_          Wards have been placed around the school, making it impossible to cross onto the grounds.  Just the same, no one is able to leave._

_          Alarms sounded at the Ministry of Magic moments after the Death Eaters crossed onto Hogwarts grounds.  Headmaster Dumbledore set these alarms up around the school during He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's first rising in order to alert the Ministry in the event something like a siege was ever to occur._

_          Tracking placed on wizards still registered in school, however, indicate that Harry Potter escaped hours before the siege.  He cannot be placed at Hogwarts._

_          "It seems as if they knew it was coming," said Jonathan Crane, of the Department of Mysteries.  "The Ministry is able to detect when a Hogwarts student leaves the grounds, though it is rarely in effect.  Just before the siege is said to take place, a large amount of students passed over the wards."_

_          There is no word on who had escaped and who remains in the walls.  Several parents report receiving owls from their children stating that they are safe, but won't be able to correspond for some time._

The article went on about the possibilities and to mention the Prophecy of the Four Mages.  Ron didn't feel like reading it, especially when he flipped to page four to continue with the article and found an information box about the Four Mages.  He couldn't help but stare.

**Bade Fabian Mizar**

_Mother:  Larrissa Mizar (second wife of King Reegan Alcor)_

_Father:  Unknown_

_Born:  __4 July, 352___

_Gift:  Immortality_

_Curse:  Infertile_

_Accused of a conspiracy with Ryan Alcor to take the throne, Bade Mizar was tried and convicted._

Ron crumpled up the _Daily Prophet_ and chucked it across the room.  He fell back against the wall and stared at the ceiling.  He didn't want to think about Bade, and he didn't want to think about Malfoy.  Last night, Ron wasn't sure what his dream was about, but he was certain that Bade had been in it.  Those touches lingered on his skin, and Ron craved more.  It was frustrating, aggravating, and Ron wished that it would go away.

"Are you okay?"

It was Malfoy, hanging in the doorway, looking from Ron to the crumpled _Daily Prophet and back again.  Ron shrugged._

"What do you care for?"

"I don't.  Just wondering if you were going to go nutters on me and attempt homicide.  Blimey, Weasley, relax."

Malfoy's voice was shaky, unsure, and Ron noticed those heavy bags under his eyes again.  This time he didn't just look tired, though.  Instead, he looked a lot like Valmont had with blotchy skin, bloodshot eyes, and his silver blond hair mussed.  Sighing, Ron forced his body to relax.

"I'm not going to go nutters and attempt homicide.  Just sick of hearing about this Prophecy already, and I get the feeling it isn't going to stop."

"I know.  I mean -- God, did you hear the way my brother was talking about it?  Like it was nothing?  'Oh, Draco, don't you worry.  Being a Mage isn't hard.  All you have to do is find Absconditus and figure out how to get the magic out of the fountain so that maybe you can kill Voldemort.  Of course, if you don't find it, there's no hope no matter what you do.  Still, no need to be nervous.  Really.' "

"Why am I surrounded by people who don't know how to say You-Know-Who?"

"Oh, honestly, don't tell me you're one of those people.  Even Potter has the bollocks to say Voldemort and he was a woman."

"Yes, I'm one of those people."

"There's no need to be.  You should see Voldemort.  He's hideous.  Doesn't deserve any kind of respect at all.  Not with a face like that.  You would think with all that Dark Magic he'd be able to do something about that.  Then again, you'd think with that Masters in Potions, Snape would be able to do something about that hair."

Ron snickered.  "Is that all you think about?  What people look like?"

"No, but I was trying to make you laugh.  And I did, didn't I?"

"Yeah.  You did."  Ron fumbled with the cuff of his sleeve, an old Hogwarts robe that was too short.  "Why are you being nice today after you were, well, you yesterday?"

"I'm reeling off my father's death.  I presume you heard.  Don't think it will last."

"I don't."

Malfoy walked from the doorway to the empty bed he occupied yesterday.  Hopping up on it, he let his legs swing in the air, looking like a young child.  Ron grinned, staring at the action and thinking how Malfoy would never do something like this if they were still in Hogwarts.  It was a very un-Malfoy thing to do, and as Ron realized that, he couldn't help but think it was a very Bade thing to do.  This had to be the ultimate identity crisis, and if Malfoy was going through something like this, how was Harry going to be?  If anyone ever had gender confusion . . .

"So Professor Valmont is your brother?"

It sounded very lame in his head and even lamer on his tongue, but it was something.  Ron didn't want to sit in silence with Malfoy.

"It sounds so weird for someone to call Phoenix 'Professor Valmont.' "

"I know he said he'd explain, but he hasn't -- so, er, if you could --"

"Explain?"  Ron nodded.  "Well, there isn't much to explain."

"It's just -- I always thought you were an only child."

"I practically am.  Phoenix is seven years older than I am; he was born just after my mother left Hogwarts.  She was pregnant most of her seventh year.  Father had already proposed to her so it wasn't as taboo as it would have been if they weren't engaged.  They were married by the time he was born.  You're a pureblood.  You know how a child out of wedlock is treated.  Of course, no one would ever dare to say something about a Malfoy."

"So people whispered about your family behind their backs.  Sort of like what they do now."

A hint of a smile crossed Malfoy's lips.  It looked like it fit there on his face rather than that scowl he often wore.

"Right.   Like the way people reacted to my father's brief stay in Azkaban.  Still, Phoenix was always the favorite.  Did you know he was a genius?"

"Really?"

"Doesn't come across, does it?  He was a prodigy.  Quiet annoying, really, because they always expected me to measure up to him.  Father would always complain about how I couldn't be his because I was retarded.  Snape had to keep telling him that I wasn't retarded; Phoenix wasn't a normal child.  My father thought the average wizarding child was supposed to be able to do Alohomora at the age of four."

"Your brother wasn't kidding when he said your father isn't all there."

"No, he wasn't.  I think he tried to be a decent father.  Thought making us Death Eaters would be good for us.  Genuinely misguided, I suppose.  Spoiled us both terribly, though I was far more spoilt than Phoenix.

"See, Phoenix was supposed to be a Death Eater, and father went on this power trip when Voldemort disappeared.  Once he thought the Dark Lord was gone for good, he got this crazy idea to start his own group with fellow Death Eaters.  Wanted Phoenix to be a part of it, but he refused.  Got Father rather angry.  Disinherited him.  That's why he changed his name to Valmont.  Didn't want to be associated with my father anymore.  Every time Phoenix came around, they spent most of the time fighting.  I wasn't even allowed to say my brother's name in the house.

"My father tried to buy me off.  When it would come time for me to be a Death Eater, Father wanted to have a little insurance.  Seemed to forget --"

"That you and your brother were two different people?" said Ron.  Malfoy nodded.  "I get that sometimes.  My mum tries to treat me the way she did with Bill or Percy or Fred, but I've always been a lot different from my siblings.  She always says that if it weren't for the red hair, she'd think I was someone else's kid."

"Technically, you are."

"Yeah."

"Listen, I'm going to go find my brother.  I want to talk to him about this Prophecy thing some more."

"Okay."

Malfoy hesitated before sliding off the bed and passing out of the room.

*

Hazy dreams passed across his eyes as Ron became aware of the shaking sensation racking his body.  Cracking open his eyes, he saw Bade above him, gripping his shoulders and rocking him.  Ron groaned and tried to pull away, but Bade refused to release him. 

"Ryan, get up.  Ryan."

"Go away."

"Ryan, you have to get up."

His voice cracked at the end, and Bade released a dry sob.  Ron felt his heart lurch forward and he struggled to sit up.  Bade's breathing was heavy when it wasn't stilled, and his fingers fisted around the sheets.  He sat there a minute longer before rushing out of bed and dressing.

"Bade, what's going on?"

"They're coming."

"Who's coming?"

"Use your head, Ryan.  My mother found your father and brother dead yesterday.  We barely got past tea before you were questioned.  Don't you hear it?  God, don't you _See_ it?  She was right."

Now that Bade mentioned it, he heard the footsteps.  Voices followed, loud angry shouts that sounded like the prison guards and officials, which questioned him yesterday.  Screaming echoed off the stone corridors as heavy boots scraped along the floor.  Those were Hero's screams.  He'd know them anywhere.  Ever since the stoning, they haunted his dreams.

"Oh, God," he said.  It was all he could get out before he was out of bed.

"I told you!"

"Oh, God.  Bade."  He reached for Bade's hand and forced his fingers around Bade's.  "They've got Hero.  They think Hero -- why Hero?"

"It's going to be okay."

"Why do you say things like that when you know damn well things are not going to be okay?  They're coming.  They're -- oh, God, they're coming."

The heavy wooden door flung open and guards stepped into the room.  In the corridor Ron saw Lorenzo and Hero held back by even more guards.  They were everywhere, and Ron screamed when they ripped Bade from him.  His resistance was futile.  There were too many; they were too strong.  Half-dragged, half-carried, they pulled Ron from his bed chamber.

Tears streaked down Hero's dirt-stained cheeks creating two clean tracks of skin.  The left sleeve of her slip was ripped, exposing a dirty shoulder.  Lorenzo didn't move from the grip the guards had on him.  Neither did Bade.  Ron couldn't bear not to fight.  It felt foolish to struggle, but it felt even more so to give in.

"Bade Fabian Mizar, you have been accused of conspiring with Ryan Sloan Alcor to take the throne of Absconditus, and plotting the murders of Reegan Anthony Alcor and Starvos Reegan Alcor."

The guards' words faded as Ron was slammed against the wall.  Bile rose in Ron's throat, and he forced it back down.  He would not throw up.  Colors swam before his eyes as he choked on oxygen.  Stone dug into the crevices of his spine as the guards pushed him harder against the wall.

"Ryan Sloan Alcor, you have been accused of plotting the murder of Reegan Anthony Alcor and Starvos Reegan Alcor."

They continued to speak, but Ron didn't process the words.  Pain consumed him.  His vision was gone; everything was black.  Hero's sobs pounded against his eardrums.  Bade argued with the guards, and Ron clung to it.  He needed Bade -- needed his touch, his embrace, his lips.  He needed to be back in bed with Bade's body beside him.  He struggled to breathe, but his lungs suffocated him.

*

"He's having a vision, Phoenix.  Becky told you that when a Seer first starts developing, one comes almost every day.  She told you they drain him.  It's normal."

"They freak me out."

"Honestly, were you always this incompetent?"

"I'm not incompetent."

"You lack so much common sense that I can hardly tolerate you."

"Oh, I love you, too."

"Would you stop fighting?  You're giving me a headache."

"Phoenix, go fill the basin with cold water.  I think he's coming out of it."

"Why me?"

"Because you're driving me bloody crazy."

"We should have sent him to Rebekah.  Why did we bring him here?"

"Because you didn't want to be the one to tell Potter he was a woman.  Go fill the basin with cold water and do it now."

"You are a cranky and unhappy man.  Did you know that?"

"So I've heard."

"Would you just go fill the basin?  I'm getting sick of hearing him tell you to do it."

"Thank you, Draco."

"Would you all just shut up?" said Ron, raising his hands to his head.

"Forgive us, Mr. Weasley, but Phoenix doesn't understand orders."

"I understand orders."

"Then go fill the basin."

"Go fill the basin, Phoenix.  Do this, Phoenix.  Do that, Phoenix.  Lick my shoes, Phoenix." 

Valmont's voice faded as he walked away.  A hand covered his forehead, and Ron opened his eyes to see Snape on one side of the bed, Malfoy on the other.  Any other time in this position, Ron would have been convinced he was about to die a horrible death -- probably one that involved a potion Neville brewed. 

"You had another vision, Mr. Weasley." 

"I know.  I was there." 

"You were screaming," said Malfoy. 

"How do you feel?" said Snape. 

"Tired.  My head hurts." 

"To be expected.  I'll bring you something for that." 

Valmont returned, carrying the basin, which Ron assumed was filled with cold water.  A rag hung off the side and Valmont placed it next to the bed. 

"Is there anything else I can do for you, your Majesty?" 

"Excuse me?" said Ron.  "Who's royalty around here?" 

Snape, Valmont, and Malfoy grinned (or as much a grin as Snape and Malfoy could ever make).  Valmont patted Ron on the shoulder. 

"You're doing all right?" 

"Well enough." 

"Listen, I'm sending Kerry Daubert to Hideout C this afternoon.  He's having -- problems -- with the Potion brewing." 

"I told you Potions was not his strongest suit," said Snape. 

"Anyway, we thought he might do better somewhere else, and I want to write Rebekah about you.  I want to know how it's coming with Harry and Blaise as well.  Is that all right with you?" 

"No problem." 

"All right, then.  If you'll excuse me, I have a letter to write." 

Valmont ducked out of the room. 

"How was the vision?" said Snape.  "Anything we should know about?" 

"I don't think so," said Ron.  "It was a vision as Ryan." 

"You get these particular visions for a reason.  Even if they are as Ryan, they may be important." 

"It -- it was about -- I was Ryan.  And they came for us -- me and Bade." 

Ron glanced to Malfoy as he said the name.  Malfoy remained unmoved as if he had never heard it.  He didn't want to continue, not with Malfoy sitting right there.  It felt strange to talk about Bade with all these conflicting emotions.  Having to tell this to Snape of all people didn't make it any easier.  Taking a deep breath, Ron ventured to continue. 

"I was in bed.  With Bade.  I mean -- not like that, we were asleep.  But I woke up, and the guards were coming for us.  Bade was in hysterics.  He heard it before I did.  Then they came.  And everyone was screaming.  You know, I really don't want to talk about it." 

Ron dropped his eyes to his lap.  It felt like he did this a lot lately. 

Snape glanced between Ron and Draco, stood, and left the bedside, pulling the makeshift curtain around them.  Draco never noticed.  He chewed on the knuckles of his index and middle fingers, staring into nothing.  The silence screamed, too loud for Ron to bear.  No words came to mind that could break it, and as the seconds passed, pressure built.  Something extravagant needed to break the tension, but Ron had little more to say than incoherent stumbling disguised as words.  Pearls of wisdom that only Dumbledore could offer felt necessary, but Dumbledore was somewhere or someone else. 

"I'm supposed to hate you," said Draco.  Ron's mouth hung agape, no sound coming out.  Draco paid no heed.  "I don't know what to do.  Three days ago, I was just Malfoy, the arrogant prick with a big mouth who hides behind his daddy's fortune.  Three days ago, I was still at Hogwarts.  Hell, three days ago, Hogwarts wasn't run over with Death Eaters.  I have no idea how I'm supposed to fight for the school.  This side is new to me.  I'm supposed to be on the other side." 

"You don't need to know everything." 

"But I don't know anything.  I don't want to know everything.  Some things are better left alone.  I feel so lost.  Two days ago, I hated you.  Yesterday, I find out I'm not just heir to the Malfoy family fortune, I'm a Mage.  I'm reincarnated from some past life I don't even remember, and I'm wearing my scarlet letter because of it.  I'm part of some prophecy I don't remember being a part of.  I don't know how Potter does it." 

"What?" 

"Saves the wizarding world time and time again.  I'm only one quarter of this deal and I don't think I can handle even that.  How does Potter do it when everyone is looking to him?" 

"Not as well as you'd think." 

"I don't even know who I am anymore.  Am I Draco or am I Bade?  That should be an easy question to answer, but it really isn't.  It scares me.  Bade . . . I know that for the past seventeen years, I've responded to Draco.  It's been my name.  Malfoy has been my identity.  But it's just a name and I'm learning it all too fast.  It's natural.  Bade feels more like my name, like who I am, than Draco.  They're both me . . . I suppose I'm a hybrid or something, but I'm so confused." 

"I know how you feel.  It's no secret I've never felt comfortable with who I am or with what I have.  And Ryan . . . I know I'm Ron, but I feel like Ryan, too, and I think that I shouldn't." 

"Exactly!  But the thing is, at least you know who Ron is.  I've never known who I am, because I was that person who hid behind my surname.  I -- I don't even know why I'm telling you this." 

"You don't have to." 

"But I want to.  I want you to know, and I don't know why.  We've never been friends before this.  Yesterday, I didn't even want to be in the same camp as you.  But now . . ." 

"It feels entirely comfortable." 

"Why do you keep finishing my sentences?" 

Ron shrugged. 

"The thing is -- if I'm this hybrid between Bade and Draco, then who is Draco in the first place?  Do I believe in what I think I believe in, or is that what my father has ingrained in me?  And if it's what my father's taught me, is that even him or is that my mother's influence?  Voldemort knew Potter was a Mage.  That's why he went after him.  If that's the case, he knows about us, too.  And if my mother . . . Was I just being used this entire time to get rid of these Mages?" 

"I think you're thinking about things entirely too much." 

"You just think that because you don't think." 

"I think, but not as much as you do." 

"Are you sure we -- they -- were lovers?" 

Ron sighed.  "No, Malfoy.  Bade stuck his tongue down my throat, but it could have been a brotherly kiss.  I know I'm always sticking my tongue down my brothers' throats.  Ginny, too, now that we come to it." 

"Very funny, Weasley."  Draco clasped his hands in his lap, running his thumb over the material of his cloak.  "Do you think that because we were -- you know -- in that life, that we would want to in this one?" 

"I don't know.  I didn't really like you until today, but that was mostly because of how you treated me, Harry, and Hermione." 

"My reason was my father.  Or my mother.  See how confusing it is!" 

"Malfoy, you're going mental.  I suggest breathing.  Deep and slow." 

"Was that some sort of sexual innuendo?" 

"Are you really that worried about it?" 

"It isn't polite to answer a question with a question." 

"You know, it's bloody annoying when people say things like that." 

"Sorry.  But, really.  What if?  I mean, were we -- they -- just lovers, or was it more?  Was it just convenient sex?  'Hey, Ryan, our bedchambers are right next to each other and I'm in need of a good shag,' or was there this sexual tension building for years while they fell in love?  If the first part is the case, well, then all we would have to worry about is lust, but if it was more . . . personality must transcend somehow.  Look at Potter.  He was a woman and he ended up gay in this life." 

"To be fair, that could be a coincidence.  You are going to be nice to Harry about this, aren't you?  I don't know how he's going to take to hearing he was a woman." 

"That's a topic for later pursuit.  I really want to know.  I mean, if they were in love, would those feelings follow?" 

"Personality is shaped by events in a person's life." 

"What about soul mates?  Circumstance doesn't mess in something like that." 

"Are you saying we could be soul mates?" 

"I'm speculating.  The souls were bound, right?  What if, in that life, we were soul mates?" 

"Do you want us to be soul mates?" 

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley.  I don't want to be stuck with you for the rest of my life.  I'm absolutely disgusted at the idea that I could have ever fallen for a pauper like you." 

"Give me credit, Malfoy.  When you fell for me, I was a Prince." 

"A forgotten Prince." 

"But royalty nonetheless." 

"You know, you've just given me an excellent excuse to use in my denial." 

"Denial?" 

"If I were in denial, that is." 

"Right." 

"You know, I think I'm going to go see if Snape or Phoenix needs any help.  You're going to be okay here by yourself?" 

"I'll be fine.  I've had visions before." 

"But none as bad." 

"I'll cope." 

Draco nodded, nibbling at his lower lip.  "Okay.  There's cold water in the basin.  If you need anything, call for me." 

Ron tried to hide his smile.  Of all the things for Malfoy to say, this had to be the lowest on Ron's expectancy meter.  He nodded and stretched out to catch some sleep before Draco told him that he needed more rest.  Draco lingered by the curtain on his way out, gave Ron one final smile, and pulled the material shut behind him.

*

Snape returned later in the day with his potion.  The headache hadn't subsided, but Ron was coping.  Dinner had come and gone, but he was too nauseous to keep anything down.  The thought of eating solid food made his stomach turn over. 

He lay in bed, trying to not think about the vision.  He tried to sleep but it refused him.  Time seemed to stand still and Ron began singing old nursery rhymes his mother sang when he was a child to keep him occupied.  When those became annoying (and boring), he moved on to Weird Sisters songs, and managed to get one stuck in his head.  That was even more annoying than the nursery rhymes.  Just as he was about to climb out of bed and find something to entertain himself, the curtain around his bed opened and then closed again. 

Ron didn't speak as Malfoy approached; his breath caught in his throat.  Malfoy climbed into bed and crawled under the covers.  He wrapped his arm around Ron's waist and laid his head on Ron's shoulder. 

"Malfoy?" 

"Draco." 

"What?" 

"Call me Draco." 

"Oh -- okay.  Draco?" 

"What?" 

"What are you doing?" 

"I don't know, but it feels right."  Ron chewed on his bottom lip, searching for words.  "I couldn't sleep." 

"Me, either.  Malfoy?" 

"Draco." 

"Draco?" 

"What?" 

"Are you going to sleep here?" 

"I don't know." 

Ron hesitated, and then wrapped his arm around Mal -- Draco's -- shoulder. 

"Will you sleep here?" 

"Are you asking?" 

"It isn't polite to answer a question with a question." 

"You're right.  That is annoying." 

"Well?  Will you?" 

"Do you want me to?" 

"I don't know." 

"Why is --"

"This happening?  Why is it so weird?  Why does it feel right?  Why do I want it?" 

Draco nodded against his shoulder. 

"Yes." 

"I don't know why this is happening, but I put the full blame on your brother.  If I hadn't known you were Bade --"

"It would probably happen eventually anyway." 

"Why _are_ we finishing each other's sentences?" 

"Got me.  Answer my other questions." 

"What were they again?" 

"Why it felt right.  Why I want it.  And -- something else.  Oh!  Why it was weird." 

"Well, it's weird because we were tearing out each other's throats yesterday, and today we're lying in bed together." 

"That sounds so dirty." 

"I know.  I don't know why it feels right.  Maybe -- maybe because we were together back then.  Like you said with the souls.  In my visions -- it wasn't just a quick shag.  You -- Bade -- he keeps telling me he loves me.  I know I feel the same way." 

"So . . . we _were_ in love." 

"Yeah." 

"Is that why we want it, too?" 

"I don't know." 

"We're a great pair.  We don't know anything." 

"I know I want it." 

Ron wanted to slap himself.  If he thought he sounded lame earlier today . . . that was pathetic.  Draco didn't answer at first, but he tightened his grip around Ron's waist. 

"I don't want to want it.  I want to hate you.  It was more comfortable when I hated you." 

"I know." 

"I want to want a girl.  I want the war to go away.  I don't want to be underground in some hideout.  I don't want to find Absconditus.  I want it all to go away.  I want to disappear.  But there is the war.  And I am in this hideout.  I do have to find Absconditus if I want to live, and I do.  I don't want you to feel so familiar, but you do.  I want you to want me, too, and most of all, I want to shut up and never speak about this night again." 

Ron almost choked on the laughter he hadn't expected.  Draco buried his face further into Ron's shoulder. 

"Don't laugh at me.  I'm serious.  Someone should put a silencing charm on me." 

"If you want, I'll pretend this never happened.  You can go on being arrogant and pompous in the morning." 

"No, I can't.  Not with Phoenix around.  Soon as I heard he was teaching at Hogwarts I knew my reputation was going to be ruined.  Never expected this, though." 

"Stay with me tonight.  We can go on hating each other in the morning, or pretend we hate each other, or something, but stay with me tonight." 

Draco nodded. 


	10. Development

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name:  AndromedanQueen**

**Title:  The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Wherein Ron is insane, Draco is distant, and Snape is hunting wild boar.**

**Disclaimer:  I borrowed Ms. Rowling's characters.  They are not mine.  Hogwarts isn't mine.  The hell hole that is Hideout B is my own.  Observe.  Ms. Rowling has a pretty castle.  I have a hole in the ground.  That about sums it up.**

**Boys will KISS boys.  Boys will TOUCH boys.  Boys will SHAG boys.  You have been warned.**

**_Chapter Ten:  Development_**

Ron was crazy.  Not just your ordinary, zany kind of crazy, but out-there insanity that pushes all bounds to their very extreme.  At least that's what he thought when he rolled over on the mattress to find an empty spot beside him the next morning.  There was no sign of Draco anywhere -- that he slept there or even been there at all.  His head throbbed as he ran a hand over the empty space where he thought Draco laid.  The spot was cold.  Yes, Ron was crazy. 

Had Malfoy really crawled into his bed last night?  Had visions of Bade gotten to him?  They seemed like they had.  Imagining Malfoy crawling under his covers and wrapping his arms around Ron while he slept?  It was ludicrous.  People like Draco Malfoy didn't do things like that with people like Ron Weasley. 

But why did it seem so real? 

Better question: Do crazy people know they're crazy? 

If not, then Ron could pass for a sane person with a sound mind.  At least if he did imagine Malfoy crawling into his bed, then he could say that he had the common sense to know that it was insane.  That was something, and when you grow up poor, you learn fast that something is better than nothing. 

Still . . . 

Ron crawled out of the infirmary bed and shifted beneath the thin material of his Hogwarts robes.  With the Muggle clothing Ron packed, he also threw in several of these school robes without thinking.  In retrospect, it seemed like a bad idea.  They only reminded him of the school, the siege, and that all led down one self-destructive path to the Bad Place: Malfoy. 

He didn't ponder long.  The robes were too stiff from sleeping (not to mention that they had that feeling about them when one is sick and wears the same pajamas for several days in a row) to think about it.  Leaving the hospital area, he padded into the room Valmont assigned to him.  It was empty, and Ron grabbed a fresh pair of boxers, jeans, and an old T-shirt that had gone through three Weasley siblings before reaching Ron.  Ginny would own it, too, if Ron hadn't been so brutal with it through the years. 

If anything, Ron needed a long shower.  That proved impossible.  Bathing facilities consisted of two showerheads with bad water pressure in a room several meters away from the infirmary.  He supposed Valmont or Snape must have set them up.  How likely was indoor plumbing underground?  Thankful that he had a place to shower -- and piss -- at all, Ron dressed and headed for his next morning destination: food. 

"What are you doing out of bed?" asked Valmont the moment Ron walked into the room. 

"Wha -- was I supposed to stay?" 

It seemed very silly to ask after being forced into bed yesterday, and then, after his many protests, getting another vision.  Precautions had to be taken.  At least that's what he imagined Valmont or Snape saying, the latter with a cynical drag on the end that would make Ron feel like a small child.  Damn Snape when he got like that. 

"I guess you don't have to, but take it easy today.  And get something from Sev before you do anything.  I'm working on maps and tactics today with fifth and sixth years.  You'll have to go with Sev to do Potions if you want to do anything.  I know we're running low on headache potions and Circumvetus." 

"Circum -- what?" 

"For minor injuries.  Nothing big.  And since no one can go buy Skele-Gro, we need to make it ourselves.  Bit of a problem last night.  Read about it in the _Prophet.  Death Eaters removing bones from Muggles so that they can't try to fight back.  Find it highly entertaining.  Bet some rat like Wormtail was behind a stunt like that." _

Ron nodded, making an incoherent sound to show he was listening.  Valmont didn't seem to notice.  So much for common courtesy. 

"Anyway, you can go help out for a little while until lunch, but when it's time to eat, make sure that you do.  You need every last bit of energy you can get.  After that, go lay down for awhile.  Use your room.  Draco's working with me after lunch, and Kerry won't be there to disturb you because I already sent him to Hideout C with a message to Rebekah." 

"So hang around and do nothing?" 

"That's it." 

"I can do that.  I can do that really well." 

Valmont grinned. 

"Good.  Then after you eat, go down to the lab.  Come back for lunch, and then go lay down.  I don't care what you do for the rest of the night, just take it easy.  And if you have another vision -- especially if it's something worth mentioning -- come tell me.  Even if you're just reporting that you had one.  I won't make you tell me what happened." 

"Okay." 

"Then go have some porridge and be off." 

"Just for the record, next time Snape's getting a copy of the _Prophet_, ask him to get something more edible than that mush." 

"Don't worry.  I'm already on it." 

Ron walked to the table where they kept the kettle of porridge and took what he thought his stomach could handle.  Food shoveled into his mouth at a pace that defied the terrible taste of the mess.  Over the years, he perfected this process of eating as a way of not tasting the burnt toast that tended to land on his plate.  Every little bit counts when you're close to starving, and down in this hideout, Ron bet they treaded the line.

*

"Professor Valmont told me to come see you," said Ron. 

Several minutes ago, Ron entered the lab and went straight to where Snape was brewing.  From the corner of his eye, Ron caught sight of Mal - Draco staring into his cauldron.  Every now and again, he would sneak a glance in Ron's direction.  He wasn't sure what to make of that.  Had Malfoy crawled into his bed last night? 

"He let you out?" 

"I left on my own.  He told me that I should come see you about brewing, but after lunch I'm supposed to go lay down.  For my own good.  Some rot about preserving energy." 

"It isn't rot, Mister Weasley.  It's a necessity to keep you good and healthy.  That's something we need around here right now.  Especially from you, and I'm sure you know why."

"I know." 

"Take this." 

Snape held out a vial of the headache potion Ron felt all too familiar with.  He hesitated, thinking of Valmont's words about their supply on this particular potion.  It wasn't often a wise thing to cross Snape, though, and Ron took it, downing the vial. 

"We're working on the Circumvetus potion.  I trust you haven't learned the procedure yet as this is a potion I reserve for the end of seventh year." 

"You would be trusting correctly." 

"Then I want you to work with someone who already knows the procedure.  Miss Brown, Miss Brocklehurst, Miss Bones, or Mister Malfoy.  Pick a person and get to it." 

Ron nodded and spun around to meet Draco's eyes.  Draco stirred his cauldron but didn't break his contact with Ron.  They stared as Draco brewed, and Ron dared to walk over to where Draco stood.  There was little discussion as they worked.  Draco asked for an ingredient and Ron gave it to him.  Ron asked a question and Draco gave him an answer.  There were no formalities.  No insults passed. 

"Did you sleep well?" asked Draco sometime later as they finished.  Ron's eyebrows rose high to expose the white around his irises.  His lower lip dropped, mouth lax. 

"Yes, I did.  Great in fact.  You?" 

"Best night's sleep I've had in months." 

"Good." 

"We're done with all we can do for today.  We'll do the rest tomorrow." 

"Okay." 

"Don't you need to lie down or something?  In case of -- you know -- a vision?" 

"Valmont -- Phoenix -- he said I could work this morning but that I needed rest this afternoon.  Why?  Thinking of coming to visit me?" 

Breath stilled in his throat as the last word passed his lips.  He watched Draco's lips twitch and the corners curled into a smile.  Lungs inflated again, and Ron felt his head clear. 

"I might.  If I get really bored and it strikes my fancy, that is.  Will you be back in the infirmary?" 

"Our room.  Thought it was for the best.  Kerry already left." 

"I know.  I've had the room to myself.  Been rather lonely." 

Wood chipped from the corner of this table.  Ron would have never noticed if it weren't for his thumb rubbing at the edge.  Words could be good right about now, but Draco had this way of wiping coherence out of Ron's head.  They used to fight when this happened, and Ron felt his ears going so red that part of him was embarrassed. 

"What do we do until lunch?" 

"Nothing.  Well, I mean, Snape or Phoenix could probably come up with something for us to do, but you can't strain yourself." 

"I get visions, Draco, I'm not an invalid." 

"I know that.  I wasn't insinuating that you were.  Getting testy, are you?" 

"No."  Ron folded his arms over his chest.  "What are you doing tonight after dinner?" 

"Not sure.  Might spend time with my brother.  He's upset over what happened to Father and, you know, with just finding out yesterday . . . he's taking it worse than I am." 

"You're upset, though, aren't you?" 

"Of course I am.  He's my father.  Phoenix is angry with himself.  They haven't been on speaking terms in years.  In the back of his mind, I think he always meant to make up.  This took that opportunity away from him.  It's good, though.  Makes me realize that you shouldn't take anything for granted, as trite as that sounds." 

"When you don't have much, you know not to take anything for granted.  I do it anyway." 

"You're a rebel like that." 

"Born and bred.  We Weasleys know how to push the boundaries." 

"The twins do." 

Laughing, Ron nodded.  "I didn't realize I was being serious.  The Weasleys really are notorious rule-breakers.  Just not in the way that the Malfoys are." 

"The Malfoys aren't notorious for breaking rules.  We're suspected, and anybody with common sense knows that we're up to no good, but no one actually accuses us.  At least nobody who values their status in society."

"Like my family.  We have no where to go but up." 

"Not true.  People respect your family.  They fear mine." 

"Maybe they wouldn't if your father didn't carry around that cane and beat house elves with it." 

"That was the entire point of the cane." 

"To strike fear into the hearts of wizarding kind?" 

"Exactly." 

Leaning back Ron grinned at Draco.  For a moment, Draco's face was blank, and then a slow smile spread across his lips, starting at the corners and working toward the center.  Draco bent his head forward as if to examine something on the table, and a piece of white-blond hair fell into his eyes.  Ron gripped beneath the seat of his chair and forced himself to breathe.

*

Early in the afternoon, Draco and Ron left the lab to head for the meeting room.  The people milled around to get their lunches, which Ron soon discovered was stale bread and some sort of unrecognizable meat.  It flopped onto the Hogwarts plate (nicked, he was sure) and stared up at him.  Ron wrinkled his nose. 

"How are we supposed to be healthy enough to fight Death Eaters when we're eating stuff like this?  We'll be lucky if Voldemort doesn't just blow on us and we all fall over." 

"Just because it looks disgusting doesn't mean it's not nutritional." 

Ron stabbed the meat and nibbled off the end. 

"Tastes disgusting, too.  God, where did this come from?" 

"Snape used his little-known hunting abilities to chase and stake a wild boar." 

"What?" 

"Phoenix nicked it from the Hogwarts kitchens before we left." 

"Oh.  That makes more sense." 

"Snape hunting wild boar was a little far-fetched?" 

"A little isn't the term I would use." 

"You know," said Draco, as they sat at one of the tables, "we're lucky to have food at all.  We aren't in the prime location for accessibility to food.  I do hope it's better at the other camps." 

Ron grunted, staring down at his plate, all earlier thought about Draco incident last night forgotten.  He poked at it with his fork again, causing Draco to shake his head.  Draco glanced around the hall while he cut his meat into small pieces and raised his fork to put one in his mouth. 

"That looks so disgusting," said Ron.  He poked the meat again. 

"Everyone is staring at us," said Draco. 

"I don't even want to know what it is." 

"You would think they had something better to do." 

"I think it might still be alive." 

"It's not like I'm going to go Death Eater and bite off your head." 

"What are you rambling about?" 

"Me?  What are you rambling about?" 

"How gross this food is." 

"Well you have no choice.  You have to eat it.  If you don't, you're going to get sick --"

"I might get sick if I do eat it," said Ron. 

"Phoenix said that developing Seers tend to pass out from their visions due to a lack of nutrients.  Besides, it's not that bad.  You've overreacting." 

"Malfoy, I didn't know you cared." 

"I don't.  But we can't afford to lose you." 

"That was very sweet." 

"Damn.  I was going for condescending." 

"What were you rambling about?" 

"Everyone is staring at me like I'm some sort of bloody psychopath waiting for my first opportunity to cut your heart out with my teeth and hand it to the Dark Lord." 

"Or they're staring at my stunning good looks." 

"That must be it." 

"It was good imagery, though." 

"Thanks." 

"Let's hope your brother doesn't see.  I'd hate to hear that speech on respect again." 

"Lucky you never lived with him.   Used to practice it in front of the mirror.  Claimed no one took him seriously and deserved more respect.  Think father told him that speech as a bedtime story." 

"Charming." 

"Yeah." 

A thick silence settled in the air between them at the mention of Draco's father.  Ron picked at the chapped flesh of his lower lip.  Winter came early when that happened, and Ron registered the thought at the back of his mind.  It didn't feel appropriate. 

"So, Draco . . ." 

"Yeah?" 

"What are you doing this afternoon?" 

"Trying to work out Death Eater tracking or something.  Bloody waste of time, but since Phoenix sent Daubert to Hideout C yesterday, we expect someone back by Friday.  Hope they have something helpful to give us." 

"Right now, we're shooting in the dark, aren't we?" 

"Seems that way.  Not a good idea, either.  We have no real way to track.  Snape has to get copies of the _Daily Prophet that people throw away.  We're in a bad situation.  Snape and Phoenix are both high profile wizards.  If either one was seen . . ." _

"Way ahead of you.  Going to be hard to get anywhere, much less win this thing." 

"No one said it would be easy.  We all knew it was going to be hard." 

"I know that.  Still don't like it.  I hate it out here." 

"Me too, but it's our only chance." 

"I'm going back to our room." 

"You barely ate." 

"I'm not hungry." 

"You're going to get sick." 

"I'll take my chances." 

"Have it your way.  Ron?" 

Did he just call me Ron, he thought.  Ron's eyes widened and he felt his cheeks grow hot.  Why was it Malfoy that caused strange reactions on his body?  The ones that Malfoy started to cause lately weren't ones Ron wanted to think about. 

"Er -- what?" 

"I'm going to be in later.  You know, to make sure you're okay, see if you need anything.  If you have a vision --"

"All right.  See you later." 

"All right." 

Draco fumbled with his fork as Ron stood and strolled out of the meeting room. 

*

"I brought you something."

"Who brought me what?" 

Ron lay on his stomach, eyelids clenched shut.  There was too much light for his eyes to handle.  Every limb on his body screamed for mercy.  He was tired, miserable, and wanted nothing more than to be left alone.  Feeling it was a reasonable request, Ron didn't understand why it couldn't be honored.  Rolling onto his back, he stared through squinted lids.  Too much goddamn light.  Just as he expected. 

"I -- being Draco Malfoy -- brought you -- being you -- something." 

"And what is something, Draco Malfoy?" 

"Potion and food." 

"Gross Hideout B food?" 

"Yep.  Sorry.  It's all we've got." 

"What potion?" 

"Pepperup.  Snape decided it would be better since you haven't been eating." 

"And how did he know I haven't been eating?" 

Ron never thought he'd see the day when Draco's face would turn bright pink while a smile twisted his lips.  All the same, there he was, looking properly ashamed.  The sheepish grin was so cute Ron had half a mind to grab the boy by the shoulders and kiss him.  Lucky for them both, Ron kept his urge under control.  God only knows what could happen in an instance like that. 

"I didn't bring you much because I knew you wouldn't eat it." 

"What is it?" 

"More stale bread.  I think the meat is liver." 

"Are you serious?" 

"I'm looking into getting us some spinach around here." 

"What about chocolate?" 

"Chocolate is not good for you.  You've got to develop better eating habits." 

Ron mumbled. 

"What time is it?" 

"Late.  Almost everyone's gone off to bed.  Snape, Phoenix, and a few people are still hanging around.  You've been asleep since just after lunch.  I came to check in on you just before dinner, but you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you." 

"Great.  Now I won't be able to get back to sleep.  I'm an insomniac unless I wear myself out." 

"Also a bad habit.  Do you have any healthy ones?" 

Probably not, as all I'm doing lately is thinking about you, ran through Ron's mind.  It wouldn't be one of his best comebacks.  It wasn't a healthy habit either.  It did things like driving Ron to the point where he thought Draco crawled into his bed at nights (okay, it was one night).  Mind you, Draco acted strange today, but that could have been Ron's insanity working again. 

Ron found it was quite fun to be insane. 

He sat up in bed and scrunched up his nose.  Draco uncovered the plate he carried and handed it to Ron.  As Ron picked at the meat (pinching his nose as he chewed), Draco undid the potion vial. 

"Drink all of it," said Draco. 

Pepperup Potion wasn't terrible to the taste buds.  What really got you was the steam billowing out of your ears, which was so hot sometimes that it burned.  His face ached when he swallowed.  The glass of water Draco offered seemed like the most luxurious oasis.  Ron got more of it down his shirt than in his mouth. 

"Thirsty?" 

"I hate that stuff." 

"I do, too.  Because I'm so pale, it makes me look really red.  You aren't so bad.  You've got darker skin than I do and all those freckles so it doesn't look so comical.  I'm like a cherry on top of vanilla." 

"Sounds yummy.  I'll have to try that sometime." 

Ron covered his mouth, eyes wide.  Draco smirked. 

"Were you referring to the cherry and vanilla or me?" 

"The cherry and vanilla, of course." 

"No chocolate in that?" 

"No.  I think it would ruin it.  Keep it pure." 

"Pure," said Draco.  He dropped his eyes to the plate on Ron's lap.  "Are you going to finish that?" 

"I ate half of the meat and all of the bread.  That should be enough." 

"I'd be pushing my luck to ask for more." 

"Definitely." 

"All right.  You did well.  Give me the plate."  Ron handed Draco the plate, the vial, and the glass.  "I'm going to take these down to Phoenix.  He's on dish duty tonight with Susan Bones and Crystal Hawkins.  I actually had to do it last night.  Snape thinks it's funny making Malfoys work.  Anyway, you should lie down again.  At least try to sleep." 

"In other words, lie on my back and stare at the ceiling." 

"You catch on quicker than I thought.  I'm almost impressed." 

Draco doused the candles and left the room. 

"What are you doing?" said Ron, staring into the darkness.  "I'll have to try that sometime." 

What was he thinking?  How could he have let something with so many suggestions slip?  The last thing he wanted Draco to know was how things changed.  It was November third, and Ron learned about the Mages only two days ago.  The merger was happening too fast, and Ron never even noticed until he couldn't stop it.  Bade and Draco were one.  Ryan and Ron were one.  The way it affected their comfort levels was obvious.  Today was the first day that they had ever acted friendly in public, and the difficulty factor was zero. 

Ron threw his head back as the curtain opened, then pulled shut.  Footsteps padded to the bed across the room, and Ron's heart sank.  He knew he had been crazy, but he had hoped . . . 

"Ron?" 

"What?" 

"Do you mind if I sleep with you again tonight?" 

In the dark, Ron couldn't smile.  His lips tugged into a half-grin.  Relief like he never imagined pounded on his chest. 

"Come here." 

The footsteps crossed the room and the sheets yanked back.  A pillow flopped beside his, and Ron shifted to make room for Draco.  With his left arm stretched across Draco's waist, Ron didn't mind if he couldn't sleep tonight.

**Prepare to have a lot of time on your hands.  The upcoming chapters will only be getting even longer (yes, longer).  This is number 10 out of 24 so we're getting into the meat of the story.  Brace yourselves.**

**If I find the time next Tuesday, I will answer the questions and comments you left in your reviews.  I suppose this is me forewarning.  If you want a reply, leave something constructive.  Anything else can be directed to me e-mail, andromedanprincess@hotmail.com, especially questions that you may want answered.**

**I'll update next Tuesday after my Philosophy class.  See you all then.  Thanks for reading and leave a review if you feel so inclined.  Have a good week.**

**~*Erin**


	11. The Nightmare Express

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen (feel free to IM me)**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein there is a weird train, ****Phoenix**** coos, Draco's got an interesting story to tell, and Snape wants Ron to keep an eye on Draco.  Oh, and that whole relocation thing, too.  Tis much in this chapter now that we come to it.**

**Disclaimer:  If it is not clearly evident by now that I do not own any little piece of Harry Potter, then step into my office and allow me to show you what I do own.  Over here on the right is my car, which is falling apart.  NO, bumper!  Stay ON!  Over here in the left is my computer from 1995 which I write all my stories own and blue screens at least once a week.  This is my Harry Potter: Chamber of Secrets cup from the movie premiere that I keep all my change in.  As you can see, there is an abundance of pennies at the moment.  I had to use all my quarters to pay the parking meter, which I violated by three minutes and had to pay the ten dollar parking ticket.  *steams*  Er - go read the story now and ignore my rambling.  *bitches to self***

**Boys will kiss boys.  Boys will shag boys.  Lots of boy on boy fun.  If this squicks you, why the hell have you come so far in the first place?**

**_Chapter Eleven:  The Nightmare Express_**

An old, rusted train shambled along the tracks.  Splotches of rust splashed across the cars from the front to the back in various patterns.  Some were large, some small, but all suggested the age and treatment of the machinery.  A more sympathetic person might have been bothered by this neglect, but the most emotion it gained from Ron Weasley was fear.  This was a bad place.

The land was barren.  Cries from the desolate engine went unheard.  Ron had been on a train several times in his life, but this was no Hogwarts Express.  The cars were filled with crates, small and large like the rust patches.  Cloaked figures with hoods draping over their foreheads passed from compartment to compartment.  Ron didn't see much of this train.  One compartment was his scenery.

Several crates were in this room.  He wanted to see what was inside.  It felt so important that he did, but there was no way.  Their box was in the middle of the train, and a Death Eater opened the door at the back.  He saw the next car rock along, heard the wheels scrape across the tracks.  Then they were looking at him, waiting for him to speak.  What was Ron supposed to say?

Against the opposite wall behind where Ron stood sat twelve people, all bound.  Ron wanted to scream.  No boxes sat against it because of the people cluttered there.  Three Death Eaters held them captive.  Besides the Death Eaters, Ron was the only one without binds on his wrists and ankles.

"I don't think he heard you," said one of the Death Eaters.  "Perhaps you should make him listen."

"Perhaps you should let us go."

Harry.  Ron knew that voice better than he knew his own.  He sat fifth from the right, between Blaise Zabini and Draco.  His heart stilled, lungs unable to work.  Ron wanted to breathe.  He tried to suck in the oxygen but it wouldn't come.  He tried to exhale, but his throat clogged.  Draco shook his head, mouthing the word no.  More than anything, Ron wished he knew what was going on.

"I asked if you were willing to trade."

One of the Death Eaters walked to Ron, grabbed him by the chin, and forced their eyes to meet.  Ron stared into cold, dark brown eyes.  He swallowed.

"Trade what?"

"You know what we want.  We know what you want.  Your boyfriend for your gift.  Do we have a deal?"

"I swear to God, Ron, if you so much as even think about saying yes --"

"Someone shut him up," snapped the first Death Eater.  The third, who watched the exchange in silence so far, sent a curse in Harry's direction.  A dry sob, Blaise's, followed as soon as Harry's screams started.  Ron fought to keep his face straight and unmoved.  It was too hard.  He wanted to break.

"No," said Ron.

A sharp intake of breath sounded from behind him -- Draco's.  How many times had he heard it before, though in so many different situations?

"You want to play that way?" said the Death Eater with the brown eyes.  He released Ron's chin and walked over to the hostages.  Ripping Blaise up, Brown Eyes threw him over his shoulder and kicked farther open the door that separated train cars.  Seconds later, bones crunched beneath the train, and blood splattered across the front of Brown Eyes's robes.  One of the younger girls vomited.  "That was your warning.  Each and every one of these people will go the same way as Mage number one.  I'll give you time to think about the consequences of your actions."

"Don't do it, Ron," said Harry.  He struggled against his binds.  "I swear, I never thought I could hate you, but I just might if you do it.  I don't care what they do.  They can kill me.  Our souls are bound no matter what they do, but they cannot take your gift."

"Shut up," said the first Death Eater.

"I can't do this, Harry."

Ron fell against a stack of crates across from the Death Eaters.  Blaise's bones crunching beneath the tracks played in his mind.  Bile rumbled in his stomach; tears pricked the corners of his eyes and filled his lower lids.  He slid to the floor, crumpled.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Brown Eyes laughing.

"You're stronger than this, Ron," said Draco.  "Don't let them beat you.  Not yet."

"Not ever.  Do not give in to them."

"I'm really getting sick of you," said the first Death Eater, looking like a rabid dog.

He grabbed Harry by the collar, hauled him up, and threw Harry against one of the crates.  The wood hit Harry right in the face, but Rabid didn't let up.  He shoved the skin farther, grinding Harry against it.  Ron's head swam, watching.  Some of the kids tied up screamed and protested.

"So this is supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world," said Rabid.  He spun Harry around and slammed him against the crates.  "You know, the Dark Lord wants you for himself, but I'm willing to suffer torture and death if it means I get to destroy you, because, quite frankly, you annoy the hell out of me."

"Quite frankly, you smell like a wet dog.  You're pathetic, you know that?  Bribing someone for their gift?  You may as well have sunk to the level of kissing his arse.  You should be an expert, doing it for Voldemort all the time.  For the record he likes chocolate frogs and is still missing the Agrippa card.  You give him that and he might hand over his gift." 

"You talk too much." 

"You don't bathe enough."

Grabbing Harry by a fistful of hair, Rabid ripped his head back and exposed his throat.  Pointing his wand at Harry, he said, "_Crucio_."

"You know I hate that kind of screaming," said the third Death Eater.  Brown Eyes sighed.

"Couldn't that have waited?"

"He makes me want to commit homicide," said Rabid, throwing Harry's body to the ground.  It landed with a sharp thud, Harry's body twitching and his throat dying as he screamed.  Ron clutched to one of the crates behind him, clenching his teeth and eyes shut.

"Why me?" he whispered.

"Because you have something we want," said Brown Eyes.   Rabid lifted Cruciatus from Harry, and bent him backward over a crate.  The third Death Eater bound Harry to the wood.  "I had a best friend once.  Terrible thing what happened to him.  You see, we were at Hogwarts together, and when I decided to become a Death Eater, he decided not to.  Came to an unfortunate end.  Found dead in his bed, throat slit.  Guess he couldn't take the thought that he made the wrong decision.

"There's still time for you, though.  Make the right decision, Ron.  Your consent to your gift, and we won't torture your friend."

"I --"

"Ron, you prat --" said Harry, coughing.  His body shuddered and he closed his eyes.

"Harry --"

"I'm afraid I can't let you talk to the hostage.  It could affect your decision, and we don't want that."

"You're a sadistic fucker, you know that --"

"_Crucio_," said Rabid.  Brown Eyes turned around, glaring at him.

"Not - yet."  Turning back, Brown Eyes faced Ron and arched an eyebrow.  "Well?"

Ron wanted to say yes more than anything.  He couldn't hear himself think over Harry's screaming.  All there was in the world were those screams, Harry twitching, and Blaise's bones crunching beneath the train.  Raising his hands, Ron covered his face with his fingers, and pulled them away to see slashes of tears.  When had he started crying?

Looking to his left, Ron found the soft, familiar face.  Draco shook his head, still mouthing the word no.  Harry's screams died, replaced by labored breathing.

"Please, Ron," said Harry.

Yes.  Yes!  YES!

"No."

Brown Eyes's face hardened.  Standing, he twisted around to face the cluster of people.  It all played out in Ron's head before Brown Eyes ever moved.  Brown Eyes walked forward, seized Draco, kicked open the door, and threw him between the trains.  Blood splayed and that sickening sound of bones crunching came, but it wasn't enough to hinder a magical train, and so they rolled on.

Except when he approached the people, he grabbed one of the younger kids instead.  The effect was almost as bad.  This was a third year if Ron's memory served, a Ravenclaw.  Only thirteen years old and his life lay in Ron's hands.  Saying no was easier when he thought it would be Draco.  Draco wanted Ron to reject but this boy . . . What did this boy want?

Above Ron's level of consciousness, Draco's voice flowed through the air, bringing him the only comfort possible.  From the harsh rise and fall of syllables, he was in an argument with a Death Eater, but he could argue all his heart desired so long as he stayed alive.

Feet stomped and landed before Ron.

"Yes or no?"

"I can't," said Ron.  He tried not to plead.  Tears spilled over his cheeks.

"No?  Fine then."  Brown Eyes crossed the car, kicked open the door, and out went the Ravenclaw.  "Not a close friend?  Still want to say no?"

"I'm not giving you --" Ron's voice broke off.  He gasped to breathe.  "No."

"Okay, then.  Tristan.  Pick another.  Sooner or later we're bound to find someone worth a little leverage."

The third Death Eater, Tristan, crossed and grabbed a small, waif girl from the Hufflepuff house -- Eloise Midgen's little sister.  She screamed as Tristan carried her across the car and held her above the tracks.  Tears soaked the collar of Ron's shirt, and he fell over onto the dirt floor.  He placed a sweaty palm against the ground and dirt pasted against his skin.  Screams faded, bones crunched.

"So this is what we have for our Mage," said Brown Eyes.  He squatted before Ron, looking down at him.  "Kind of sad to rely on them, really.  I mean, look at what we've got.  One's dead, one's dying, one's pathetic, and one," Brown Eyes looked to Draco, "needs to watch his mouth."

Draco smirked.

"I tell things like they are.  Potter would, but he's too busy coughing up blood."

Ron raised his eyes from the floor to where Harry lay bound to the crate.  His fingers curled around the corners and his chest heaved as he struggled to breathe.  With every inhalation, his ribcage rumbled, and he coughed until a trail of blood rushed down the corner of his mouth.

"Harry."

"We told you we'd make you a deal," said Brown Eyes.  "Your gift for your boyfriend."

Foresight for -- Harry?  They thought that Harry -- 

"Harry."

"We'll give you Potter.  Give us your gift."

"I don't even know how," said Ron, slapping the floor.  Dirt whirled into the air.

"He's not giving you anything," said Harry.  His voice rasped, and the coughing started again.  Harry's knuckles turned white as his torso jerked above the wood.  Rabid grinned, trailing the tip of his wand along Harry's torso and stomach as he fought to breathe.

"That is for Ron to decide," said Brown Eyes.  "Ron?  Have you seen the light?"

"I'm not giving you anything."

Draco's lips hung open and they curled into a lopsided smile.

"You tell them, Ron," said Draco.

Brown Eyes turned on his heels, ripped Draco's head back by his hair, and trained his wand on Draco's throat.

"Keep -- your -- tongue.  Osiris?"

Rabid's eyes brightened, stopping his wand's path over Harry's heart.

"Yes?"

"Do it."

Crucio.  Just one word and Harry struggled against his binds, screamed until he lost his voice, and there was blood -- more blood than Ron ever thought could come from a person.  The internal bleeding was so great; Harry must've ruptured something.  Brown Eyes fixed gazes with Ron.

"No."

"No?" said Brown Eyes.

"No."

He never looked. Pointing his wand at Harry, he murmured something that Ron couldn't make out.  The effects were impossible to miss.  His stomach went first, or so Ron thought, because it all happened so fast that by the time Harry's heart exploded in his chest, he was already dead.  Ron fell to his elbows and vomited.

*

Ron choked, struggled, and his eyes snapped open to see a low stone ceiling.  There was little else he could see with no light shining into the room.  He moved to roll over, but a body blocked his way -- Draco, who had been sleeping by his side since Sunday night.  For the four nights before last, Ron slept in peace.  Having Draco there made such a surprising difference.  Last night, though . . .

He heard the bones crunch beneath the train.  Was it a dream or a vision?  Ron hoped it would work out to only be a nightmare.  Not every dream Ron had as a Seer came true.  He once had a dream where one of Ginny's dolls came to life and tried to marry him.  If that could be a melting pot of the day's events like most dreams are said to be, then this could be, too.  God knew he thought about Death Eaters enough in a day for them to sneak into his dreams.

And Draco . . . in the five nights Draco slept by his side, not once had Ron woken to find him there in the morning.  It must be early -- so early that Draco was still asleep, and he woke with the sun.  Still, Ron was not going back to sleep.  Nothing could make him.  He shifted, pulled Draco closer, and closed his eyes.  It was a bad idea.

The Death Eaters loomed behind his eyelids.  He couldn't remember everything.  The sound of bones crunching, blood splattered on robes, vomit, Harry's heart exploding in his chest . . . Ron remembered that.  It was the last thing he remembered before he woke up.  With the hand that wasn't wrapped around Draco, Ron pounded his pillow.  The cases were wet.  He had been crying.

"Ron?" said Draco, groggy.  "Wha's goin' on?"

"Nothing."

"You don't sound like it's nothin'."

"Well it is, so go back to sleep."

Eyelashes fluttered over blue, blocking Draco's eyes from Ron, and then they blossomed.  A soft smile spread across Draco's lips, and he squeezed Ron's wrist.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"It's no big deal.  I had a dream."

"What kind of dream?  A Seer dream?"

"I hope not."

Draco blinked, reaching to wipe his eyes.  Sitting up, he tried to focus his vision, and then wrapped his arms around Ron's waist.  He laid his head on Ron's shoulder and nuzzled his nose into the crook of Ron's neck.

"Was it bad?"

"It was really bad."

"What happened?"

"Death Eaters.  Train.  They -- they killed Harry."

"Who cares?  It's only Potter."

"Draco, he's my best mate.  I love him like a brother."

"My brother's annoying."

"So's Harry, but I don't want him dead."

"Technically, Potter's your sister."

"Lay off the woman jokes."

"Who's joking?"  Ron frowned, furrowed his eyebrows, and stared at Draco.  "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you just saying that?"

"No."  Yes.

Running his fingers over Ron's arms, Draco made a trail from Ron's left shoulder to his wrist with his fingertips.  He bit his lip, swallowed, and his fingers shook before sliding into Ron's.  Ron's other arm -- the right -- lay across the pillows now and under Draco's head.  He dropped his wrist to wrap his fingers around Draco's shoulder, pulling him tight against Ron's chest.

"You smell bad," said Draco.  Ron laughed.

"It's dirty down here."

"I know.  I smell, too."

"You don't smell that bad."

"Yes I do."  Draco laughed, nodding.  "Maybe we could get the Death Eaters that way.  Get a whole bunch of us together and put us in a confined space with them.  The smell would knock them out before we'd have to do anything."

"That sounds like a plan."

"Rise and shine, guys," said Valmont, ripping back the curtains with an oil lamp in hand.  Spying Ron and Draco in bed, he smirked and arched an eyebrow.  "Well good morning to you.  Sorry if I was interrupting anything."

"You weren't interrupting," said Draco, pulling away from Ron.  He rolled out of bed and walked to his brother, helping to light candles and lamps.  "Nothing happened.  Whatever you're thinking in that sadistic little mind of yours should be discarded."

"I'm thinking you were cuddling."

"I couldn't sleep alone and he had a nightmare.  We were being resourceful."

"You were cuddling.  That's adorable."

"Shut up, Phoenix."

"You shouldn't talk to your big brother like that.  It's very rude.  What would mother say if she heard you speaking like that to your elders?"

"Applaud me?  Don't you have someone else to torture?  Snape, maybe?"

"Sev is out crawling along the ground looking for breakfast.  I asked for worms but I don't think he's going to honor my request.  They're too slimy."

"What is your purpose of being here?"

"I came to wake you up.  And to let you know I have an assignment for you.  One that does not require cuddling, but you may do so if you feel so inclined."

"I already told you that we were not cuddling."

"Keep lying to yourself, Draco.  Maybe one day you'll believe it."

"I'm bright enough to realize that you won't ever see things for the way they are, so I'm just going to quit while I'm ahead."

"What makes you assume you're ahead?  You are an arrogant little tosser, you know that?"

"What's the assignment?"

"Bout time you asked.  I'm sending you to Hideout C."

"Hideout C?" said Ron, climbing out of bed and taking a lamp from Valmont.  "What are we going to do at Hideout C?"

"I just got Rebekah's messenger back.  Your friend, Harry, isn't taking to the Prophecy so well.  We thought the four of you should get together, and conditions are much more hospitable there.  That and I think you should talk to Rebekah about your visions.  Tell them what you told me."

"When are we supposed to leave?" said Draco.

"Today.  We don't have time to waste.  Sev mapped out your course and will be helping you before you go.  Rebekah will give you further instructions once you get there.  I think your sister is there, Ron."  Ron nodded.  It would be good to see Ginny again.  One less thing he'd have to worry about.  "She said there are a few members of the Order there, too."

"Order?" asked Draco.

"I'll explain it to you on the way," said Ron.  Valmont grinned and nodded.

"Start packing.  I want to send you out after you eat."

"Okay."

Valmont left the room, pulling the curtains behind him.  Ron looked to Draco standing on the other side of the room, leaning against the way, and picking at the collar of his silk pajama top.  Holding out his hand, Ron said, "Draco.  Come here."

Looking up, a hint of a smile fleeted across Draco's features.  He sank back to the wall, sighed, and pulled his fingers away from the material.  Draco crossed the room, took Ron's hand, and stepped up against Ron's chest.

"Never thought we'd be like this," said Ron.  He brushed his fingers over Draco's hair, which hung to his shoulders and looked a fright after sleeping.

"I'm not as surprised as you might think.  There was always something between us."

"Loathing?"

"That too."  Draco laid his head against Ron's chest, watching Ron's fingers as they wrapped around his own and brought the fingertips to his mouth.  "So what is this about an Order?"

"Order of the Phoenix," said Ron, biting on Draco's index finger.  "People who fought against You-Know-Who first time around."

"If you can call me Draco, you can call the Dark Lord Voldemort.  It's just a name."

"Then why don't Death Eaters use it?"

"Because the Death Eaters fear him just as much as you do.  I have nothing to fear.  I don't care if he kills me, and there's no one close to me that I would mourn if they died."

"What about your brother?"  Draco didn't reply.  Ron sighed.  "What about me?" 

"I don't fear a name.  So tell me more about this Order."

"Like I said, people who fought against You-Know-Who first time around.  They're grouped to fight against him.  These are people who would believe that Dumbledore was gone.  That would help us get Hogwarts back.  Same people who once upon a time put your father in Azkaban.  You know, before the dementors let him out again."

"Right.  Back in fifth year."

"When you're friends with Harry, no year is a dull year.  Especially when you're prancing around turning into ferrets and singing 'Weasley is our King.'"

The apples of Draco's cheeks flushed a bright pink and he hid his face in Ron's chest.

"Since when do I prance?"

"You've always pranced."

Ron kissed the inside of Draco's wrist, pushing the sleeve to the crook of his elbow.  Blood pulsated through Draco's veins, and Ron tried to feel each beat with the caverns of his mouth.  His tongue trailed along the vein line, working his way up Draco's arm.  Breath hitched, first from Draco, then from Ron, and Draco angled his head down when Ron stopped his work. 

Ron's eyes were drawn to a spot just below his elbow on the right arm, and Draco swallowed.  Fingertips rubbed over the area where he knew the marring would be.

"It's not the Dark Mark," said Draco.

"I know.  I've seen the Dark Mark.  It's missing the snake."  Draco nodded.  "So what is it?"

"Death Eater thing."

Eyes locked.

"Tell me."

Crossing the room, Draco pulled out his bag and started packing.  Without folding anything, Draco shoved things into his bag.  Ron frowned, took a deep breath, and put his arms around Draco's shoulders, kissing his earlobe.  Draco tensed in Ron's arms, breathing hard, and tried to pull away.

"Let me go."

"No.  Tell me."

"You're going to hate me."

"No, I won't."

"You don't know that."

"Try me."

Draco turned, caught Ron's eyes with certain defiance, and shrugged.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."  Ron nodded.  "When you pledge to become a Death Eater, you have to go through a year-long training session.  You learn curses, dueling -- anything you can think of.  There are tests, too, the biggest one being that you stick around long enough to take your Dark Mark.  You fail a test and they kill you.

"Upon pledging, they brand you with this," said Draco, shoving his arm at Ron.  "It's a sign that you promise to abide by their rules until you're officially a Death Eater.  If you drop out of training and the time for a year passes without taking the Dark Mark, this is supposed to go away.  You're no longer a part of them.  But their memories are long and they remember anyone who crosses them.  Voldemort always remembers.

"Before you can take your Mark, you need to master the Unforgivable Curses.  Imperius is the first, then Cruciatus, and Avada Kedavra.

"I started my training the summer before fifth year.  I was okay at first.  I thought it was what I wanted.  That I could take it.  Then I started getting more involved in it.  I went to my first meeting and it scared me.  I visited their headquarters.  It looks so normal at first.  It's just this normal, old house.  But their lanterns are skulls.  They have a fountain that doesn't pump water; it pumps blood.  I was horrified, but I could take that.  I've seen a lot of horrific things in my time thanks to my father."

"Blood?" said Ron.

"Not just any blood.  My father told me that the blood is the blood of innocent children."

"That's disgusting."

"Glad someone thinks so."

Ron tried to offer some kind of comfort but Draco pulled away.  He walked to the door, leaned against the jamb, and stared at Ron.

"I was so angry when my father went to Azkaban.  I didn't want him there.  I wanted him with me, so he could see what it was doing to me.  I wanted him to realize that I wasn't like him.  Make no mistakes, ruled by my mother or not, my father enjoyed what he did."

"I'm not following you.  You were training to be a Death Eater."

"Malfoy Manor is on a hill in Wiltshire and just below it is Malfoy City."

"Malfoy City?"

"Yes, Malfoy City.  We have no basis in it but one of our ancestors founded the City.  For a large part, my father ignores them.  We don't know what's going down there and we don't want to.  A bunch of Muggles live in a city bearing our name.  Why would we want to?  But when I was little, my father took me down there sometimes.  On one of these trips, I made friends with a girl named Leanne Carey.

"I told you before that you need to perform the Unforgivable Curses to receive your Dark Mark.  To do that, we practice on humans.  One of the elder Death Eaters picks your test subject and when it's time to practice, they're always there.  I was barely at school fifth year thanks to my training sessions.  Part of the reason I joined Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad was so that she'd think I was on her side.  I couldn't have that evil bitch watching my every step.  No one could know I spent my weekends practicing Dark Arts curses.

"My father picked Leanne as my test subject.  He remembered us being friends, and decided to show me what happens when you make friends with a Muggle.  They like it when it's someone you know.  Makes it more personal."  Draco scratched at the mark on his arm.  "It was June.  Still two months before I was supposed to pass this test.  I had just been able to control my energy enough to do Cruciatus and I hated it.  I didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore, and it was time to practice Avada Kedavra.

"I was so angry that day.  I was angry at my father for making me do this.  I was angry at the world for existing.  And I was so damn angry at Leanne for ever talking to me because of what I was going to have to do to her.  I killed her."

Ron bit his bottom lip and leaned back against the wall.  His legs shook beneath his body, and he dropped to one of the mattresses before his legs gave out.  Draco eyed him.

"When a year passed, my Mark wouldn't go away.  It's supposed to be a sign of what I've done.  There's no real way to counter it that I know of.  After that -- well, my father went to Azkaban and I was angry because I wanted him to know what living with the grief did to me.  I hated my mother for encouraging this.  I felt so angry all the time.  Even when my father came back out of Azkaban thanks to the dementors and he had to move around so the Ministry couldn't track him.  All he cared about was him.  He never saw what it did to me.  But I loved him.  I hate that he's gone."

"I don't hate you," said Ron.  "I don't know how I feel about this, but I don't hate you."

"If you tell me you pity me, I'm saying that's worse."

"I don't know how I feel.  I don't think I'm entirely comfortable with this."

"Of course you aren't.  You aren't the kind of person who grows up around murder.  Murder's a family reunion game for me."

"Don't be like this."

"Don't be like what?"

"I don't know.  Bitter.  Don't be mad at me."

Draco sighed.  "If you think I'm mad at you, you really are an idiot."

"Don't call me an idiot."

Crossing his arms, Draco stared at Ron.  His lips stretched into a straight line, unmoved, and then Draco grabbed his bag from the floor.  Throwing it over his shoulder, he stared at Ron for a second longer, and turned to leave.

"Please don't walk away from this -- from me."

"Weasley . . . I don't get you."

"What's there to get?"

"This isn't like you.  I killed someone.  Don't you get that?"

"Did you get enjoyment out of it?"

"No."

"Do you want to do it again?"

"No."

"Then why should I hate you?  I mean -- I don't like it.  I hate it.  But not you.  Only if you wanted to -- liked it.  Saw what the thrill was."

"But you aren't comfortable with it."

"Am I supposed to be?"

Draco angled his head toward the floor and shrugged.  His hair fell across his eyes, catching in his eyelashes, and he took a deep breath.

"No.  You aren't."

"I'm sorry, Draco.  Don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you.  I just --"

"I know."

"How do you know?  You know everything about me lately."

"Not everything, but I'm learning."

A small smirk spread across Draco's lips as he laughed.  He motioned toward the doorway with his head.

"You reckon we should go see Snape about where we're heading?  Phoenix might check in on us and think we started cuddling again, or give us a speech about how we should respect his authority.  You know, when Phoenix says jump, the entire wizarding world should give a giant leap.  Arrogant, that brother of mine."

"Think so?"

"Know so.  Guys so bent on his prodigy status that he doesn't realize most people his age have caught up to him and that he was only a true genius until he was seventeen.  Not to say he can't do really fancy things with his wand, but still . . . He makes up his own spells, you know.  They usually require doing some strange sort of acrobatics."

"Seems composed when I'm around."

"You've never seen him eat lip gloss yet.  Once that starts, there's no stopping the madness."

"Lip gloss?"

"He loves the stuff.  Puts it on his lips and then licks it off.  He can polish off a tube in two hours if he's really trying.  Used to drive Father crazy."

"Guess we better go then.  Don't want to be around when the madness starts." 

"To be fair, I think lip gloss is a delicacy he can't afford.  Still, there is the very free respect speech he loves to give so much."

Ron grinned, grabbed his bag, and threw things inside.  He fastened it shut once packed and walked to the doorway.  As Ron passed out of the room, Draco slid his hand up the back of Ron's shirt and let his fingers graze over the small of Ron's back.  The pad of his thumb rubbed across the flesh in small circles as they walked toward the classroom to meet Snape.

They approached the room, curtain hanging limp from the thin wooden plank that supported it.  Thrown aside, it revealed a third of the doorway, and through the gap, Ron saw Snape moving around the room.  He cast a look to Draco, reached behind his back, and brushed his fingertips over the back of Draco's hand.  Swallowing, Draco pulled his hand away and stepped forward to rip the curtain all the way back.  Draco leaned against the jamb and cleared his throat.

"Phoenix said you mapped out our course."

Snape turned, glanced at Draco, Ron, and made an inclination with his head.  Pulling open a drawer on a rickety, timeworn desk, Snape littered the top with yellowed parchments.  Spidery threads of ink covered the pages in varying degrees of fading.  

"You'll be going to Hideout C," said Snape.  "I'm afraid that you'll be seeing Mr. Daubert again, but Mr. Smith was so appalled by the conditions here that I'm sure your conditions will be much better.  This trip of yours should take a few days if you do not slack off.  Remain as hidden as possible and stick to the route I've delineated on the map."

"How are we supposed to eat?" said Ron.  Draco rolled his eyes.

"Here is the map," said Snape, handing it to Draco.  "Phoenix thought we should put an enchantment on it for the path in the chance a Death Eater were to come across it, but you would need to use your wand for something like that --"

"And no magic is allowed in Hideout B," said Draco.  "In other words, be careful to the point of paranoia until we're in a more populated area." 

"That is the gist of it," said Snape, frowning.  "This is not a game, Draco.  This is a matter of --"

"Life and death?"

"Our necks or theirs.  If they find our path, two of our Hideouts can be obliterated."

"We'll be careful."

"I know you will.  You don't have a choice.  As for places to eat, Draco, I believe you know Phoenix's version of the Revealing Charm."

"I am not doing Phoenix's version of any charm."

"We cannot use the common version.  Any first year could tap into the information on this map.  With Phoenix's version --"

"I'm going to have to jump up and down on one leg and sing nursery rhymes."

"Draco, it would do you good to stop interrupting."  Draco sighed, dropping the map to his side and shoving it into his pocket.  "If you use Phoenix's version of the charm, the map will show you where members of the Order are stationed to provide room and board for our messengers.  If you refuse, you're on your own."

"You're using that charm," said Ron.  Draco pretended not to hear him, but his jaw tightened as he glared at Snape.

"Guess we'll be off, then.  Wish us luck."

"You won't disappoint us," said Snape.

"No."

Draco fumbled with the right strap of his bag, hiked it higher on his back, and stared at a point just over Snape's shoulder.  He opened his mouth, tongue stilling just behind his lower lip, and he closed his mouth again.  Shaking his head, Draco turned and pushed past Ron on his way out.

"Mr. Weasley, keep an eye on him," said Snape as Ron turned to go.  He spun around again.

"Do you think --"

"I think he just lost his father.  I don't know what he's told you, but Draco is not what people expect of him.  He was once.  Some things don't feel the way you expect them to, though.  Some things set you straight.  But when you've been down a path once . . ."

"I don't think he'd go back."

"I don't think so, either, but Bade Mizar was not a saint.  He hated his mother because she was indifferent to him.  Bade was notorious for pushing people because he needed a reaction from someone.  Not much changed when Draco Malfoy was born.  Keep that in mind."

Ron nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure what Snape was talking about.  Wasn't Narcissa Malfoy the one who made Draco go to Hogwarts so that he wasn't so far away?  Didn't Lucius and Narcissa spoil Draco to all ends?  He turned from the room and headed into the dark corridor.  People started to wake and milled in and out of the darkness as they went about their morning procedures.  Draco stood at the end of the corridor where it met with the meeting room, swallowing a bowl of porridge (with some sort of blue colored berry).

"What did Snape say to you about me?"

"Nothing.  Just something about -- er -- I think being here for you."

"You don't have to do anything."

"What if I want to?  You should know that Snape isn't the first person I would do a favor for."

"You wouldn't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because I know what kind of person you are."

Ron fell silent, his lips slightly pursed as he stared hard at Draco.  He narrowed his eyes, cocked his head to the side, and let his jaw fall open.

"And what kind of person am I?"

"Not the kind of person who wants to be around someone like me.  I'm way out of your league, Ron.  You're way out of mine.  Let's not try to cross paths."

"Why are you so goddamn determined to cause a fight with me?"

"You're asking me like this is a new development."

"I'm not going to fight with you."

"You already are."

Ron brushed past Draco to fill a bowl with porridge, which he shoved into his mouth one heaping spoonful at a time.  His stomach ached by the time he finished; this was often the effect of eating too fast, especially when Ron was already upset about something.  Shoving the bowl away, he grabbed his bag and headed for the exit, never looking to see if Draco bothered coming.

It was like waking in the middle of the night, going down into the common room, and finding it still alive with Hogwarts students.  Sounds were too loud; light was too bright.  Ron didn't remember the sun ever hurting his eyes this much.

"From being underground for seven days.  We'll get used to it."

Ron shielded his eyes with his left hand and turned toward Draco.

"Let's get going, then."

Squinting, Draco pulled the map out of his pocket and smoothed it out across his thigh.  A pale index finger trailed the marked path and Draco looked around their surroundings.

"This way."

They headed south, leaving the shelter of Hideout B behind them.

***Dances around and sprinkles fairy dust on reader's heads to make them review***

**I _knew_ I should have invested in a tutu!**


	12. Transition

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein there is a lot of arguing and that shagging I've been talking about.**

**Not JK.  Am too brain dead to be funny or witty right now.  Pinky finger hurts.  No more formatting.**

**Er - boys will kiss - Oh, hell.  Ron and Draco are going to fuck like bunnies.  Be warned.  If this is a problem with you, press the back button.  There's plenty of that Ron/Hermione *gag* stuff on this site.**

****

**_Chapter Twelve:  Transition_**

"Mundungus Fletcher?"

Draco's fingers twitched by his side and Ron stepped back, afraid that Draco was ready to hit him over the head.

"He's a member of the Order!"

"He's a criminal!"

"You don't have a lot of room to speak with your family."

"There is nothing wrong with my family.  We're eccentric."

"Your brother's revealing charm requires wiggling up and down making 'ooh aah' noises.  Your father joined the Death Eaters because he thought the Dark Mark was stylish."

"Don't be so loud.  Someone will hear you."

"Because no one heard you complaining about Mundungus Fletcher.  Besides, everyone knows your father was a Death Eater."

"Yes, but he's dead now, so lay off.  I know he had some ­-- er -- issues.  He thought melon looked good on him.  In fact my father thought everything looked good on him, but that's no reason to attack him when he can't defend himself.  You want to talk about a batty family, why don't we talk about yours?"

"Lay off my family, Draco.  I think that over the years you've said more than enough about what you think of my family."

"I wouldn't insult them if they weren't all such a bunch of nutters." 

"Yours is a bunch of criminals so lay off Mundungus.  He gave us a place to eat and have a quick nap before we were off again."

"And why was it a quick nap?  Because the Ministry decided to show up and demand to know about black market creatures.  We could have been napping above a Blast Ended Skrewt for all we know."

"Actually, those are legal, so --"

"Yes, Weasley, I'm so sorry, I forgot he was harboring _illegal_ creatures under our beds."

"There's no need to be so shirty."

"Sorry but I get in a right state when I have to crawl through a window and run from the law."

"They didn't even know we were there."

"You should have known better.  Mundungus Fletcher!  Honestly, Weasley, why didn't we just camp outside of Azkaban for the night?"

"Because Mundungus Fletcher's place is on the list?  And it's closer."

"Which makes all the difference.  Who else is in this Order of yours?  Professor Umbridge and Sirius Black?"

"Shut up," said Ron before he realized what he was doing.  "You just shut up about Sirius."

Draco fell silent, stilled in his advance, and watched as Ron walked past.  Crossing his arms over his chest, Draco resumed his pace to catch up with Ron.  Meeting his footsteps, Draco dropped his hands to his thighs as climbed a hilly stretch of the woods.

The path taken in accordance with the map was set off the main roads and in areas that would be easy to hide in if someone were to wander by.  It involved a lot of climbing, and a lot of going between the sun and the shade.  They wore thick layers of clothing, especially as it started to get dark.  Yesterday, the first day of this journey, they spent the night with some witch Draco did not know named Emmeline Vance.  Tonight, they were supposed to be sleeping at Mundungus Fletcher's, but that hadn't worked out, which was a shame, too.  It was bloody cold out here.

"I think we should get to London sometime tomorrow afternoon," said Draco.  Ron nodded.  "What did I say?"

"Nothing."

"If I hadn't said anything you'd still be sparring with me.  What's Sirius Black got to do with anything?"

"Just don't say anything about him if you don't want to be castrated.  Especially around Harry."

"Why?"

"Don't tell me you were in Death Eater training and you didn't know."

"I know that Sirius Black is the reason Potter's parents are dead and that he broke out of Azkaban to kill Potter."

"I can't believe you were in Death Eater training and didn't know."

"Didn't know what?  It isn't like we know all of Voldemort's secrets.  You don't learn anything until you get your Mark, really.  Too risky.  Especially if you're like me and you don't take the Mark when the time comes."

"It's a long story.  Short version is that Sirius didn't kill Harry's parents, Peter Pettigrew did.  Pettigrew didn't die, he's a Death Eater, and very much alive.  Sirius was in the Order, but he's dead now."

"Wha -- Sirius -- he wasn't after Potter?" 

"He was after Wormtail -- Pettigrew.  He was after Pettigrew.  We were all sort of close to him."

"Sorry."

Ron shrugged.  "No big deal.  He's gone.  Let's not talk about it.  That was a bad day."  Draco watched as Ron's fingers went to his wrist, rubbing at ugly scarred ribbons wrapping across the flesh and disappearing under the cuff of his old jumper.  Draco couldn't recall seeing them before.  "We should set up camp before it gets too dark to see anything."

"Yeah, right."  Draco looked from their bags to their surroundings and frowned.  "With what?  We can't use magic here because it isn't populated enough.  It's on the map.  And we didn't bring anything but our clothes.  We weren't supposed to be sleeping outside."

"I know that, but our host was last seen fighting for his freedom."

"I still can't believe you expected more from Mundungus Fletcher."

"Come off it.  We're just going to have to make do with the hard ground.  You can do that, can't you?  It won't make you have a stroke or go into cardiac arrest?"

"Sod off.  I'm not as much of a spoiled prat as you think.  I camped at the Quidditch World Cup, remember?"

"Actually, I don't recall seeing you except for the game and hiding in the woods from Daddy dearest and his Death Eater pals."

"If we're not talking about the dead, leave my father out of it.  We camped.  I just didn't want to be seen associating with people like you."

"Didn't camp like this."

"No, but . . . I'm not a priss.  I'm quite capable of sleeping on the ground.  As much as I may look like him, I am not my father."

"Well then let's get to it.  Show me what a camper you really are."

Draco looked around the setting from the moss covered rocks to the dead leaves scattered across the ground.  The early November air swept through the branches and down onto the boys; Ron wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered.  Running water trickled over the whispers of the wind and Draco headed off in that direction.

"What are you doing?"

"Bathing."

"That water is too cold.  You're going to get sick."

"I'm dirty.  I need to bathe.  I'll be fine."

"Draco, it is the eighth of November and you are about to jump into water.  Outdoors.  Without clothing."

"Do you expect me to wear these robes in the water?"

"You are insane."

"I guess this means you won't be joining me." 

"You're certainly right I won't be joining you." 

"You should.  You smell, too." 

"If you go into that water and get sick, don't think I'll be helping you out.  I warned you and you didn't listen."

Draco rolled his eyes and undid the laces on his shoes.  They were beaten and worn, unlike last week when they were still at Hogwarts and sporting a fine, high polish.  Dirt collected in semicircles beneath Draco's nails.  Painted pale skin collected fine layers of dust over a period of seven days underground.  White-blond hair looked paler than usual, unhealthy, dull.  The little sun Draco encountered when leaving the dungeons had once made a difference. 

Every inch of Draco's body seemed so familiar except for the obvious Malfoy trademarks.  The skin was too fair; the hair was too light.  Facial features were altered, more pointed than Bade Mizar's, but Ron noticed they were softer around the edges than most Malfoys.  His collarbone had the same pronounced arc.  Long tapered fingers were identical down to the freckle on Draco's right pinky.  The stretch of Draco's neck has the same smooth grace as its predecessor.  Had he always looked this beautiful?

Discarding his robes, Draco wasted little time.  He immersed his body into the chest-deep water and howled.

"Shit, it's cold!"

Ron snickered.  "I told you."

"Shit, shit, shit!"

"You're going to freeze to death now.  It's going to be my entire fault because I didn't stop you.  If it comes to that, I'll claim it was suicide.  You had a death wish.  Something about mourning your father."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did tell you.  You just didn't listen."

"I need a warming charm." 

"We can't use charms out here." 

"I need my robes." 

"Get out of the water."

"I can't.  Too cold." 

"You are hopeless." 

Ron walked to the water edge and pulled Draco's arms away from where his hands clasped his shoulders.  With a heave, Ron yanked Draco from the water, grabbed Draco's robes from the ground, and wrapped them around his body. 

"I told you." 

"How was I supposed to know?" 

"It's November." 

"I'm going to get sick.  I need to get indoors." 

"We have to get to London tomorrow.  No getting sick until we're in London, then you can get feverish all you like." 

"I think I'm already stuffed up.  I can't breathe through my nose." 

"You're quite the drama queen." 

"I am not." 

"You are too."  Ron left Draco's side to search through Draco's bag.  He pulled out a fur-lined cloak, trousers, and a jumper, pausing to marvel at the richness of the fabrics before carrying them over to Draco.  "Put these on and do it fast.  You need to get warm." 

"How could you let me do that?" 

"I tried to stop you." 

"You did not."  Draco dropped the cloak and pulled on the pants.  Yanking the jumper over his head, he used the damp robes to wring out his hair and then pulled on the cloak.  "You didn't try to stop me.  You stood off to the side and watched me just about kill myself." 

"You didn't just about kill yourself." 

"Yes, I did.  Didn't you see?  If the water was deeper I would have gone into shock and drowned." 

"No, you wouldn't have.  You exaggerate about everything." 

"We need a fire.  We need blankets.  We're going to freeze out here.  We're close to an area on the map where we can use magic.  Why don't we just chance it?  I'm not turning into an icicle and my hair is already freezing." 

Ron hesitated, but Draco had a point.  They couldn't sleep the way they were without a fire, and Ron didn't know how to start one without magic.  With the way the Malfoy family was so against Muggles, Ron was willing to bet that Draco had no idea how to start one without his wand, either.  Glancing at the map, Ron sighed.  They needed some sort of warmth, especially with Draco soaked. 

Pulling out his wand, Ron conjured the bluebell flames he learned from Hermione in first year.  He transfigured a pile of leaves into a pile of blankets, causing Draco to applaud.  McGonagall would have been proud.  They spread out the blankets, bunching one up for a pillow, and arranged their bed for the night.  Draco approached the sleeping arrangement, and tripped over a root, falling against Ron's left side.  Ron caught him by the arm before he could crash to the ground. 

"I think you just pulled my arm out of its socket." 

"Don't whine," said Ron, pulling Draco to his feet.  "You need to be more careful." 

"I can't see where I'm going.  My hair is in my eyes.  I have too much of it." 

"Why don't you get it cut?" 

Ron almost stumbled from the cold glare he received in reply. 

"Okay, forget the haircut.  This why you smother it back until you're hair is a shield?" 

"It gets in my eyes." 

"I can see that."  Ron ran a piece of Draco's hair between his thumb and index finger, let it bounce at the end when released.  He grinned, pushed the hair back from Draco's forehead, and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist.  Sighing, Draco's head dropped, forehead resting against Ron's chest.  "You're out of sorts tonight." 

"You have that effect on me." 

Ron laughed, shaking his head.  "I've heard some crazy things in my time, but that tops them all." 

"You do.  Don't think you're the only one affected by the Bade-Ryan connection.  I can't get you off of my mind and . . . Why did you think I couldn't sleep unless you were there?  Do you think --"

Grabbing Draco's chin, Ron tilted his head up to meet his eyes.  Words stilled in Draco's throat, forced back with the oxygen he could no longer manage to breathe.  His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and Draco licked the soft pink of his lips.  Angling his head forward, Draco's eyelids fell shut, and Ron traced his index finger along Draco's cheek before pressing his lips to Draco's. 

At first, Draco didn't kiss back.  Ron ran his lips over Draco's and sucked the bottom lip into his mouth, suckling, licking the chapped flesh.  Too much cold, Ron thought.  Draco's lips were splitting just as much as his own were.  The skin felt rough against his tongue, and Ron slid further into Draco's mouth. 

A low moan issued from the back of Draco's throat, and then he kissed back, harder than Ron had.  Draco met Ron's kisses with more force, challenging him, inviting him farther and closer and to a place all more intimate.  Just like so much had been lately with Draco, it was foreign and familiar, terrible and wonderful, and Ron wanted to scream if only because he needed to release the tension trembling beneath the surface of his skin. 

Fingertips twitched and danced across any exposed flesh of Ron's skin.  Draco groped at Ron's body in a furious rush, ripping at material.  His tongue ran the length of Ron's, his teeth nibbled at Ron's bottom lip, and he ravished Ron's mouth with his own. 

Grabbing Draco by the front of his cloak, Ron forced him to his knees and then on his back upon the pile of blankets he had transfigured.  Ripping the top layer of blankets back, Ron nestled Draco's body into the makeshift bed before removing the cloak.  Somewhere in the back of Ron's mind, he thought it was such a waste that Draco dressed minutes before when everything was coming off again.  His fingers fought with the button on Draco's trousers until he felt Draco's fingers slide between his own to undo the button. 

Ron pulled the blankets up around them, burying them in a mass of dark green material.  Yanking at the worn Weasley jumper, Draco worked it off of Ron's torso, and he tossed it to the side.  Soft cotton from the blankets rubbed against the exposure on Ron's back while Draco's palms rubbed across his chest, brandishing coarse fingertips over sensitive skin. 

When it happened, it was nothing like Ron expected.  Taking Draco, surrounded by him, was nothing like Ron could comprehend before this moment when he lay spent with Draco in his arms.  The dreams with Bade were child's play compared to the way his muscles convulsed beneath his skin.  When his orgasm hit, Ron screamed Draco's name, clinging to the body beneath him.  Draco clung to the blankets above his head and writhed, thrusting with shaky motions before collapsing. 

Moonlight filtering through the branches played shadows onto the ground, and Ron saw his own hand shaking in the pale rays.  He pulled Draco's body closer to his own, brushed his palm over Draco's thigh, and cupped Draco's hipbone.  Pressing his lips to the back of Draco's neck, Ron nuzzled his nose into sticky blond hair. 

"Suppose that bath was a waste of my time," said Draco.  Ron snickered. 

"Going to make you sick, too.  Suppose I'm going to have to take care of you." 

"Don't do that.  I wouldn't know how to react.  No one ever took care of me when I was sick before, except for house elves, but they don't count."

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"I'm tired."

"Me too."

Draco spooned back into Ron, and it was he who fell asleep first.  Ron stared up at the darkened sky long after Draco fell asleep, thinking about what had happened.  What was going to happen?  What did this mean?  It was all too confusing.  It felt so wrong, but so right, and Ron couldn't even remember how he had come to have Draco Malfoy laying beside him by his own free will. 

Ron would throw the blame on Bade and his visions, as he often liked to push the blame for things off onto other people, but there was no denying he had been a big part of what just happened.  In his dreams, visions, Ron had the unfortunate reaction to fall in love with Bade just as he had done as Ryan so many years ago, but Ron was not Ryan.  This was a new life, and Bade was not the same beauty that he had been.  He was Draco Malfoy, arrogant little prat with too much time on his hands and an extensive knowledge of button making.

Smirking, Ron kissed the curve of Draco's neck and closed his eyes. 

"I was your Prince, not your King," said Ron, brushing back Draco's hair before he fell asleep.

*

Ron was sick of walking.  His feet hurt, his calves hurt, and that was only from last night's shag on the cold, hard ground.  If he had to hear Draco complain about the pain in his arse one more time, Ron was going to shove something else up there, preferably a large tree branch that would rip and tear at the tissue when it was removed. 

They had been walking all day and only for the last five minutes did Ron realize where they were.  A grin spread over his face catching sight of Kingsley and Tonks halfway down the street.  It was darker than it should have been, and Draco shifted, scratching at the back of his neck.  Someone must have already used the Put-Outer.  How long had they been waiting for him? 

"Where are you going?" asked Draco as they approached number twelve, Grimmauld Place. 

"He can't see it yet," said Tonks, chuckling.  Her hair was bright orange today, reminding Ron a lot of his bedroom back at the Burrow.  Ron gave her a withered smile. 

"He's been like this the whole trip.  So this is where Hideout C is?" 

"You've got it.  Come on.  Quickly, now." 

Kingsley pulled a piece of parchment out of his robes and handed it to Draco.  Fighting back a grin, Ron watched as Draco read over it and then stared blankly at Kingsley.  He felt very much the same way when arriving with his family.  It felt nice to share this place with Draco, as frightening as it could be.  He hoped Kreacher wasn't hanging around.  Ron got the distinct feeling that there would be personality clashes between the house elf and Draco Malfoy. 

"I don't get --"

"Think about what you just read," said Ron.  Tonks patted him on the shoulder. 

Draco crossed his arms, arched an eyebrow, and frowned. 

"Nothing's happening." 

"It would if you'd just --"

An old, battered door appeared between numbers eleven and thirteen, Grimmauld Place, as if out of nowhere.  Draco's already arched eyebrow went higher, his arms dropping to his sides, and his bag fell to the ground.  Tonks chuckled, grabbed his bag, and gave Draco a nudge toward the door.  Walking ahead with Ron, Kingsley tapped the door, and after a series of clicks, the door swung open.  Draco gaped. 

"Wha --"

"I'll explain to you later," said Ron, grabbing Draco's hand.  "Come on.  Before someone sees." 

The first thing Ron noticed was that it smelled a lot better than it had the last time he was here.  Complete darkness shrouded them for the arrival, but now that Kingsley and Tonks stepped inside, gas lamps and candles lit up and illuminated the room.  Now in the light, the second thing Ron noticed was how much cleaner it was.  The wallpaper still peeled, but the chandelier glittered once again, and new curtains hung where the old moth-eaten ones had been. 

Footsteps rushed down the staircase and then Ginny and Hermione faced them. 

"Silver said you were coming," said Ginny, rushing at Ron and pulling him into a hug.  "When Kerry showed up with the letter we figured you'd be along in only a few days.  Mum's been worried sick when she didn't hear anything from you." 

"I couldn't --"

"Oh, I know all about Hideout B.  How did you survive without magic?" 

"Well --"

"How did you survive with -- er --"

Ginny motioned toward Draco with her head. 

"Ginny, maybe you should give Ron a chance to breathe," said Kingsley.  Turning a light shade of pink, Ginny nodded and took a step back. 

"Did you see the _Prophet_ article?" 

"Of course he didn't," said Hermione.  "There was an article --"

"About the siege," said Ron.  "Yeah, I saw it.  Snape's been nicking copies of the paper so we can keep up with the news." 

Hermione pursed her lips but didn't say anything.  Ron got the feeling she was running over an extensive speech in her head about how dangerous that was and how a Hogwarts professor should know better.  Holding back a sigh, Ron glanced to where Draco stood beside him.  His posture was perfect, shoulders back and chin square, showing no sign of being the same person who had whined and complained over half the way here.  He certainly showed no signs of being the same person who had moved beneath Ron to euphoria the night before.  Ron tugged on the sleeve of his robes. 

"You okay?" 

Draco glanced to Ron from the corner of his eye and then to Ginny and Hermione.  The girls wavered glances between the two; Hermione settled on Ron while Ginny settled on Draco. 

"Fine." 

"We need to talk to Professor Leiss and Harry." 

"Zabini, too," said Draco. 

"Right.  Blaise is here, right?" 

"Blaise started off here," said Hermione.  "We were barely at Hideout A when Madam Pomfrey found out that your mum and dad were here at C.  She thought Ginny would want to be where they were and so I came along with.  Got here two days after Harry first arrived.  It's nicer at A than it is here, but we have more freedom with our magic here." 

"You think this is bad, you should see B." 

"To be fair, I liked Hideout B," said Draco.  Ron grinned. 

"I did, too.  I miss it there already." 

"I wouldn't go that far." 

"I miss Phoenix." 

"You're the only one." 

"Who's Phoenix?" said Hermione. 

"Oh.  Phoenix.  Professor Valmont." 

Hermione nodded. 

"Well, if you need to see Professor Leiss, I'll be pleased to go and fetch her for you.  Harry and Blaise, too." 

They left the hallway and Ron dared to give a glance at the curtains covering the portrait of old Mrs. Black.  She was quiet now, which Ron assumed was for the best.  He got the feeling that if she started screaming (especially at Draco), an interesting fight would arise in one of the most inappropriate times.  Turning to Draco, Ron reached out for his hand, and Draco glanced around the deserted corridor before taking it. 

"I don't fit in here," said Draco.  He stared at the ground. 

"That isn't true." 

Draco shrugged, turning his attention away from Ron and onto a doorway. 

"What do you think Potter's going to say when he finds out about us?" 

"He'll probably be a lot nicer about it if you're gentle on the woman thing.  Don't patronize him.  He already knows about the Prophecy so there's no need to act like he doesn't.  Just play nice." 

"You're asking a lot of me." 

"No, I'm not.  You just want me to believe I'm asking a lot of you." 

"You think you have me all figured out." 

"I think you're a lot less complicated than what I imagined." 

"Ron!" 

Draco ripped his hand away from Ron's and shoved them deep into his pockets.  Spinning around, Ron grinned as he caught sight of Harry hanging at the bottom of the stairs, Blaise standing just behind him.  Giving a little wave, Ron rocked on his heels and nodded to Blaise. 

"Rebekah will be down in a little while," said Blaise.  "We have a lot to talk about." 

"No kidding," said Draco. 

Catching Harry's eye, Ron grinned. 

"All right, Harry?" 

"Hurt to be back here at first, but now . . . I miss him." 

"How are you about the Prophecy?" 

"Which one?"  Ron furrowed his eyebrows.  "Actually, I'm okay.  I wasn't, but . . ." 

"He's dealing," said Blaise.  "We both are.  You?" 

"Dealing," said Draco. 

"We think we figured a lot out, though," said Harry. 

"I can fill in a lot of gaping holes," said Ron. 

"He knows everything," said Draco.  "You need to know something about one of us and Ron's got it all stored up there in that Seer brain of his.  Creepy, really." 

"We can trade information and theories all we want, but can we eat first?  You wouldn't happen to have anything edible that actually resembles food, would you?  Hideout B came equipped with nicked Hogwarts food and not much else." 

"Besides Snape's boar-hunting abilities," said Draco.  Ron snorted, laughing. 

"Right.  That too." 

"I can see you two have become friends," said Blaise. 

"Snape and Phoenix didn't give us much of a choice," said Ron.  "It was make nice or -- well -- I don't know what they would have done to us." 

"Probably make us clean the Potions room."

"Good we got along.  That place was disgusting."

"Well, you know, my brother is highly persuasive."

"Did I hear someone say something about food?" said Leiss.  She walked up behind Blaise and passed him on the staircase to join Ron and Draco.  "You two hungry?  Kerry Daubert said that the food at Hideout B was like eating chalk and paste."

"The porridge wasn't that bad," said Draco.

"Yes, it was." 

"Was it really?" 

"Yes." 

"Kerry said you were in the infirmary just before he left, Ron." 

"I was.  Visions.  You know." 

"Right.  Well, I say we eat, and then we have some manners to discuss.  Let us know what Phoenix told you and we'll let you know what we've learned.  Hey, at least we know what those strange visions of yours mean now." 

"And that Potter's a woman," said Draco.  Four nasty glares shot in his direction.  "What?  Someone had to say it.  Don't tell me you couldn't feel the tension from it being unspoken.  I was about to burst if someone didn't acknowledge it." 

"I told you to play nice," said Ron. 

"I am playing nice.  I was just stating so that I didn't spontaneously combust.  It needed to be said." 

"Leave him alone," said Blaise.

"Can we just drop this?" said Harry.  "I thought you wanted to eat."

"We do," said Ron, fixing Draco with his eyes.  "Don't we, Draco?" 

"I was just -- oh, fine.  Potter wasn't a woman.  I know nothing.  Okay?  Can I eat now?"

Leiss laughed, leading them into the kitchen, and started fixing a late dinner.

**And I think I promised responses to your reviews, so here they are:**

**Tigerlilly2063: Heh.  Good.  I'm glad you don't know what's going on.  Harry's gift is sort of a central mystery to the entire story.  I'm also glad you're thinking about it.  It's probably one of the biggest honors a writer can receive.  I agree with you that Draco climbing into bed isn't a Malfoy thing to do.  Doesn't mean it isn't a Mizar thing to do.  I'm glad you like the conversations, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story as it unfolds.  It is a joy reading your reviews.**

**mydracomalfoy****: I'm flattered.  I won't lie and say my story isn't that good, because I know it is.  I put a lot of hard work into it between planning, writing, and editing.  And I know it's a lot better than most of the stuff on this site, but I wouldn't say it's the BEST ever.  But you can.  And feel free to.  *grins* Keep reading and reviewing.  It's the fuel to my writing fire.**

**Rory-Dasiny: I guess your wait is over, huh?  There was quite a bit of "couple" action in this chapter.  Well, maybe not couple . . . but coupleness is coming.**

**viu****: No offense taken. I thought the histories of each character would be kind of obvious that Harry was Hero because of the name and that her parents both died when she was young.  I've scattered hints all across the story if you read hard enough.  It's possible to know what's going on by the time something is revealed.  I think so, anyway.  Have fun with the rest of the story!**

**iteag****: *blushes*  I've never had a fangirl before.  *jumps up and down* Of course you can! I feel so honored.  As to your comments, what do you mean by needing more description?  Like description in scenes or just scattered around . . . Hm.  I used to hit people over the head with it, but I found it got annoying.  I also use little of it in dialogue because I find that too much can break up the conversation, and if I'm using dialogue, chances are the characters have something to say.  Just wondering.  I'm always open to improving my writing.  And don't worry.  I have a short attention span, too.  *grins*  My mind is wandering right now, pondering how stupid I am today.**

**For the rest of you, thanks for reading, and please leave a review.  It's good manners.**

**So concludes the sixth installment of The Prophecy of Absconditus.  There are 24 chapters in all, so there will be six more updates.  Expect the story to be completely up around mid-March.  Updates on Tuesday.  Keep the Ron/Draco in your heart.  Until then, signing off.**


	13. Hideout C

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein Harry is definitely fine, there are too many prophecies, Draco doesn't like Kreacher or Mrs. Black, and everyone is sick of Draco's stupid woman jokes.**

**See previous chapters for disclaimers, archiving, notes, etc.**

**_Chapter Thirteen:  Hideout C_**

Leiss watched Ron stuff his face to maximum capacity with the rolls, butter, and leftover soup.  Draco ate at his leisure, taking his time to savor in the experience.  Night and day.  Fire and ice.  Draco and Ron, one patient and calculating, the other rash and bold.  Even as an estranged acquaintance to Draco and little more than a professor to Ron, she saw how easily they attracted the other like opposite ends of a magnet.

"Hungry?"

Ron grunted, nodded, and said something indistinguishable that caused flecks of food to fly from the corners of his mouth.  Turning up his nose and curling his upper lip, Draco dropped his roll and touched his napkin to his lips.

"That is disgusting."

"I'm hungry," said Ron, swallowing.

"You eat like a savage."

"I'm hungry."

"Yes, Malfoy.  He's hungry," said Harry.  Draco scowled.

"I don't recall --"

"Now let's go on with it, shall we?" said Leiss.  "I don't want to send a return messenger to Phoenix explaining why I haven't traded stories with you yet.  If you thought his friends are exempt from his lectures, you'd be very wrong."

"I sympathize," said Draco.  "Yes, let's get on with it.  You wouldn't be the only one listening to lectures."

"Then I think a few reintroductions are in order, and I propose that we get everything we know out in the open rather than sitting in the dark, wondering what the other one knows.  I suppose a few explanations will not go amiss, either.  The four of you should know me as Professor Leiss, but once again I ask that you all call me Rebekah.  It will make things much less formal, and right now, formality is the least of our worries.

"As the four of you also know, I am a Keeper from an American circle.  How I came to work at Hogwarts is quite an epic involving a power trip by the late Lucius Malfoy and my being a Seer.  We won't go into that, however.  The story is far too long and we have far too little time."

"Then stop wasting it.  We know who you bloody are.  We know each other.  What is the point of this?"

"Draco, keep your tongue, honestly.  I've never met anyone who runs their mouth like you do."

 "What about my brother?"

"The one exception and you manage to pull it out."

"What brother?" said Harry.

"Here we go again," said Draco.

"Remember Professor Valmont?" said Leiss.  "That's him.  But for the purpose of our quest, all professors will be referred to by their first names, so catch on quickly."

"And if Phoenix mentions a Sevvie, he's talking about Snape."

"Sevvie," said Leiss, grinning.  Draco shook his head.

"Wait.  Valmont is your brother?"

"And former heir of the Malfoy family fortune.  Now he spends his time teaching at Hogwarts, driving Snape mad, and telling me to respect my peers.  He also holds a deep desire to smack me around like he feels an elder brother should.  Hogwarts policy against corporeal punishment has prevented such an action, but now that we're off the grounds, he feels I've done nothing to merit such actions.  He's quite disappointed."

"Sounds like the Phoenix Malfoy I know."

"Good God, Rebekah, don't call him that.  His ears are incredibly sensitive.  He probably heard that horrible breach on his discrepancy from Hideout B and is on his way to box your ears in."

"Yeah?  Well I'd like to see him try."

"What were you saying about wasting time?" said Blaise.

"Oh.  Right.  Sorry.  I got sidetracked. Talking about Phoenix tends to do that to people.

"To start, we arrived at Grimmauld Place on Halloween.  It's safe here, of course, for the time being, but as Dumbledore is Secret Keeper and in Death Eater clutches, we've been thinking about relocation.  For the time being, though, there's nowhere else to go."

"I was here already," said Blaise.  "Then Harry showed up.  I don't know.  We didn't spend a lot of time together until Rebekah told us.  He was holed up in his room most of the time."

"Brooding," said Leiss.

"Because of Sirius?" said Ron, pausing in his foray of edible solids.  Harry nodded.  "Sorry, mate."

"I'm fine now.  Just that the first few days were difficult."

"The thing was," said Rebekah, "Phoenix and Sev appointed me as messenger to Harry and Blaise.  I don't know either one, and now I have to sit them down somehow and tell them that they're each one-fourth of the Mages of Absconditus, and that entire wizarding legend depicts them as the saviors of our world.  Deliver us from evil, forever and ever, amen.

"Blaise was one thing.  The entire Zabini family -- well --"

"We're a bunch of drunkards and so telling me I'm a Mage is like handing me redemption on a silver platter."

"Right, but telling Harry --"

"Was like telling the savior, 'You're still special, but even more so.'  It's complicated because I'm already looked to, which can be a good or bad thing.  It adds to the pressure, but I'm already something of a savior, so it's like not much has changed.  In short, I'm a mess, and unpredictable, and could go off at any moment."

"Harry --" said Blaise.  Harry shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back into his chair, refusing to look up.  Ron hated it when he brewed like this.  At least he wasn't yelling.

"Right," said Rebekah.  "Anyhow, I didn't know how to go about this.  How does one casually bring something like that up in conversation?  So I did what I do best and abandoned all tact."

"It went something like, 'Harry, Blaise, you're Mages.  Now go find Absconditus and be good little boys while you're doing it,'" said Blaise.

"We've been able to bond over it, though," said Harry.  "Mrs. Black thinks both Blaise and I are filthy vermin of the wizarding world, though for very different reasons.  We're both Mages, and I know this is going to sound strange, but --"

"You remember it back then?  Somehow you started gathering all these memories from a life you're certain wasn't a part of this one?" said Ron.  Harry nodded.

"Exactly.  I remember Blaise -- as Lorenzo of course --"

"How much do you know?"

Draco glanced between Ron and Harry, finally landing on Leiss.  She shrugged, sipped at her tea, and stared down into the cup.

"What do you mean?"

"We learned a few things about the Mages and Absconditus in class with Phoenix, but how much did she elaborate?  You clearly know who's who."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out," said Blaise.  "The Meraks were a bunch of drunks, too."

"We gathered that much.  Did you learn about the heirs?  How we're technically descendants of ourselves?  About the curses?"

"Yes.  I mean, it took a few times to sink in," said Harry.  "The first time Rebekah explained the Prophecy, I got as far as I'm involved in another prophecy that I have no control over."

"What?"

"I'll explain in a moment.  Then, the second time, I got as far as Blaise, you, and Malfoy being Mages, too, which isn't so bad for me because at least I'm not on my own in this one.  The third time, I got as far as hearing I was the girl before I recuperated enough for Rebekah to continue.  Eventually I heard the whole story."

"And what a story it is," said Draco.  "Had a hard time believing it myself."

"You aren't the only one."

"What was this about another prophecy, Potter?  Getting a lot of time on the psychic network, are you?"

"Yeah," said Ron.  "What is this about another prophecy?"

Harry bit his lip and looked to Blaise.  Sweeping an arm, Blaise motioned for Harry to continue with his right hand while the left disappeared under the table.  Ron wasn't sure why, but the urge to look under the table and prove they were holding hands almost took him over.  But why shouldn't they be?  They had been together before, and Ron and Draco . . . well, that was a door that was just going to have to wait for a later date.

"Remember when we were in the Department of Mysteries," said Harry.  Ron nodded.  "The weapon -- the prophecy --"

"Yeah, but it got smashed."

"Yeah, but a prophecy has to be made, doesn't it?  And it has to be told to someone.  That thing in the Department of Mysteries was only a copy.  Dumbledore told me the whole thing right after it all happened."

"You've known all this time?"

"I wasn't ready to talk about it.  Don't have much of a choice now."

"No one's making you tell --"

"I already told Blaise.  Would be rude to keep it from you."  Harry sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.  "It was Trelawney, you know?  The one who made the Prophecy.  Her first true prediction and it was about me."

"Well that's ironic considering she hasn't made a true prophecy about you since."

Taking a deep breath, Harry rolled off what Dumbledore told him some one and a half years ago, about how he was the only one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord, about how he must either be a victim of Voldemort's or his murderer.  He spoke about how it could have been Neville all along, but that Voldemort marked Harry instead.

"Your gift," said Draco after a long pause of silence.  Four heads turned in his direction, but Draco stared at Harry as if no one else was in the room.  "No one's ever been able to figure out what Hero Veriatice's gift was.  It's been lost in the record books.  The only thing anyone can find from documentation is strength, but what does that mean?  No historian's ever figured it out.  But if you're the only one who can defeat him . . . I mean, come on.  A power the Dark Lord knows not?"

"But what is it?" said Blaise.  Draco jumped, looking to Blaise as though he had never seen him before.

"Dumbledore said something about . . . my heart?  Because I know how to love, and Voldemort . . ."

"Well you've certainly got that one over him," said Draco.  "Though I don't think that's fair.  I'm sure Voldemort knows how to love . . . himself.  And, you know, that basilisk Father used to go on about."

"Yes, he was terribly upset when I killed it," said Harry, giving Draco a wry smile.

"Just trying to lighten the mood.  You're all so terribly gloomy."

The corners of Ron's mouth perked up as he glanced at Draco off to the side.  His eyes met Harry's across the table and Ron jerked his shoulders in a slight shrug.

"I don't understand what our jobs are here," said Harry, looking to Leiss.  "If there's four of us, and we're all Mages, but I'm the only one who can kill Voldemort . . ."

"I'm going to have to learn to say his name, aren't I?" said Ron.

"I'm afraid so," said Leiss.

"I thought you were going to say that.  Shame.  Don't see what the use is."

"Can someone answer my question?" said Harry.

"I don't know what to tell you.  All I've gathered is that you have to go into Absconditus and activate that fountain.  Voldemort's strength is fully regained and then some.  He's surpassed where he was before you escaped him the first time.  We know that you're ability to care is the key to his destruction, but we have nothing else, and I think you'd have a much better chance of defeating him in battle --"

"But how are we supposed to find this place?"

"I don't know."

"Then why did you even tell us about this in the first place?"

"Harry --" said Blaise, his hand brushing the mess of Harry's hair out of his eyes.  Harry turned his cheek away, frowning, and caught Ron's eye from across the table.  They were a darker green than Ron was accustomed to; bloodshot, little red veins splashed across white.

"I don't understand.  Why are we expected to figure this out when no one else has ever been able to do it?  Like I don't have enough to deal with already, you've got to go and throw this on my plate.  I've had enough.  I don't want to do this anymore."

"I'm going to go to bed.  I think you four have a lot to talk about without me in the room.  You can fill me in on anything discussed tomorrow."  Leiss rose to her feet and crossed to the doorway.  "Feel free to rage about me.  I'm sure I deserve it."

Leiss left, passing out of the room and heading upstairs, avoiding the troll leg umbrella stand with a grace that Tonks never possessed.  It was a good thing, too.  The last thing they needed at this moment was Mrs. Black's screeching.

"Harry --" said Ron.

"I'm okay."  His jaw clenched, Harry sat upright and drew his arms into his lap.  Blaise sighed, resting an arm on the table and facing Harry.  Glancing over at Ron and Draco, he shook his head and turned his eyes downcast.

"No, you aren't."

"Yes, I am."

"Harry, why is it that you think you can't ever have a breakdown?  You're only human.  I'm about ready to have a screaming fit myself."

"Because nothing is going to happen while we're feeling sorry for ourselves."

"I don't know about you, but I plan on sleeping tonight, and nothing's going to happen then," said Draco.  "I mean, while I'm sleeping, I'm sure you could have a breakdown.  Then we can conserve time and I can get in much needed rest.  They drive us like slave laborers at Hideout B.  I once broke out in a sweat."

"That's Draco's dysfunctional way of telling you that you're only human, and warrant the right to go crazy once in a while," said Ron.

"But all I'm going to do is complain about how I don't want to do this, but then I'd be lying, because I do.  I don't want to die, and it's kill or be killed.  I don't have many options."

"You don't have to complain about how you don't want to do this.  You can complain about how you got stuck being the woman," said Draco.  Ron elbowed him just below the ribs, causing Draco to howl and shoot a glare in Ron's direction.  Smirking, Ron shrugged.

"I was almost proud of you there, Malfoy," said Harry.  "You went a long time without mentioning it.  When Rebekah told me you were one of the Mages, I was certain I would never stop hearing about it."

"Draco's reformed," said Ron.  "Sort of."

"Scared straight is more like it," said Draco.

"But that's beside the point," said Blaise. "So what did Valmont -- Phoenix -- what did he tell you?"

"The basics.  Explained our family history.  How we came from the twins, though I knew the story already," said Ron.  "Told us how Draco and I could be descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and yet have You-Know-Who be the last remaining heir."

"We talked about how Voldemort is the black sheep of the Weasley clan," said Draco.  "Honestly, if you would just invite him to family reunions, maybe he wouldn't want to kill you."

"He's your family, too.  You're just as related to him as I am."

"Now that's not fair.  Malfoys don't have family reunions."

"I keep forgetting your families are related," said Harry.  "It's weird to think."

"We're something like third cousins, twice removed, by marriage.  And that's just one relation.  The Malfoy and Weasley families are so inbred we should have hooves and a tail."

"That's a beautiful picture, Draco," said Ron.

"It's true.  All purebloods are inbred.  When you're only marrying purebloods, your choices become very limited.  Some entire lines die out because of it.  Or become shameful to admit your relation to.  Ron and I probably have cousins in the jungles of Africa."

"As long as they're pureblood," said Ron, "but we won't go into the true nature of my family."

"What's wrong with your family?" said Harry.

"The Weasleys are more hypocritical than the Malfoys," said Draco.

"That's only because everyone knows the Malfoys are corrupt and my family pretends we aren't," said Ron.

"Your family isn't corrupt," said Harry.

"My immediate family, no, but you've never met my extended family.  We're considered blood traitors because we associate with Muggle-borns, but no self-respecting Weasley is actually supposed to marry one.  Disgusting, really.  As you've probably guessed, my parents aren't big on that one, but I'd really rather not talk about my family."

"We could talk about the Potters and how they aren't even human," said Draco.  Harry glared at him.

"I've heard enough about that from Mrs. Black and Kreacher to last me a lifetime."

"And to be fair, the Potters are human.  It's just that the first known one was raised by furies.  Harry doesn't have fury blood in him."

"It's funny, though.  Potter's a descendent from himself as a woman and his baby raised by furies."

"Because being part veela is so much better."

"And the big secret of the Malfoy charm is out," said Blaise.

"You're right.  Let's move on to something else," said Draco.

"No, let's stay there for a second longer," said Harry.  "First, what do you mean that being part veela is so much better?"

"The Malfoys have veela in them," said Ron.

"It's several generations back," said Draco.

"But it's there."

"All right," said Harry.  "Now -- er -- well, going back to me being a descendent of my baby . . ."

"I already know there was nothing between Hero and Ryan," said Ron.  "You aren't the only one with memories from our life in Absconditus.  I even had a vision of Hero telling me she was pregnant."

"Good," said Harry.  "I was worried about that one.  Because, I don't know, it's weird.  I have these memories of being Hero, and I'm not sure if I even like her.  To top that off, she's said to have been in a relationship with Ryan, and I'm certain we were just friends.  She -- well --"

"Was with Lorenzo?"

"Yeah.  How --"

"Ron's creepy," said Draco.  "It's that foresight thing.  He knows everything."

"I had a vision of Hero telling me about the baby, remember?  That's how I knew, though I probably would have remembered it anyway."

"Right.  Well -- er -- see, because we have memories from that time, you know, I said I recognized Blaise as Lorenzo.  I remember him.  Now that I know, I remember you, too, and even Malfoy, though I still have no friendly feelings."

"Let us hope you never do," said Draco.

"What Harry's trying to say is that we're together," said Blaise.  "It was weird how it happened.  We were talking about being Mages and about remembering the past lives and then, I don't know.  I was hit with this overwhelming desire to hold him and --"

"He kissed me," Harry said.

"We just wanted to let you know.  We didn't want to hide it."

"I don't know what to say to that," said Ron.  "I mean, it's fine by me.  I have no problems with it.  Draco?"

"What do I have to complain about?  It's not up to me who Potter and Zabini shag."

"You know," said Blaise, "we still have a lot to talk about.  Like visions, what we're going to do."

"Eager to change the topic?" said Ron.  Blaise grinned.  "I have no plans.  Anyone?"

"Find Absconditus?" said Draco.

"And how do we go about doing that?" said Blaise.

"Maybe we should leave this for tomorrow," said Ron.  "Draco and I have been traveling all day, and we didn't get a very good night's sleep last night since Mundungus was run off by the ministry for dealing in illegal trade again.  I'm exhausted, and even if I had a plan for finding Absconditus, I couldn't make out the words to tell it to you."

"I'm tired myself," said Blaise.  "Okay.  I say we all go to bed and reconvene tomorrow afternoon.  Take the morning off.  You've had quite the trip."

"Damn right we have," said Draco.  Blaise ignored him as they stood and left the room, heading for the staircase.

They mounted and climbed to the first floor.  Harry turned off to the left and Blaise motioned to the stairs.

"Ron, your mum made you two a room up on the next floor. Second door on the right."

"Thanks, Blaise," said Ron.  Draco yawned and leaned against the banister.  "See you in the morning."

"Good night."

Blaise turned and headed in the direction Harry had gone.  Ron didn't stay to watch, climbing the stairs with Draco close behind.  Finding his way to the room, Ron walked in and flopped on a bed as the door shut behind Draco.

"Suppose we aren't the only ones who couldn't deny previous decisions," said Draco.  Ron stared up at the ceiling, closed his eyes, and rubbed at the lids with the pads of his thumbs.  "Are we going to tell them about us?"

"What about us?  There's nothing to us."

"Then I must have imagined us shagging last night," said Draco.  "I'm certain that's something."

"I'm tired, Draco.  Can we please talk about this in the morning?"

"Depends.  Can I sleep with you tonight or are we using separate beds now?"

Opening his eyes at Draco's words, Ron turned his head to find Draco standing by the door.  He groaned at the cold glare Draco pinned him with, dropped his head back to the bed, and rubbed his forehead.

"I never said you couldn't.  I just didn't tell them about us because I don't know what we are yet.  Besides, I didn't want to just spring it on Harry without warning."

"Potter was very clear on the subject of his memories, why he's so attracted to Zabini.  Perhaps it's just me, but I thought that perhaps we should have been as well.  I'm not the most trustworthy person.  It's not best to start this twisted relationship with lies."

"Is that what you're on about?  Draco, don't worry.  Harry isn't going to care that we didn't tell him right away, and they're going to learn to trust you.  They're already affected by their memories, and they trusted Bade.  Just give them time.  I didn't trust you right away."

"I didn't say . . . Let's just go to bed."

Ron nodded, rolled over, and pulled the sheets back.  Without bothering to undress, he climbed under the covers and made room by his side.  Draco hung by the door, watching Ron, and discarded his shirt before sliding in.

"Don't go to bed mad at me," said Ron.

"I'm not mad at you.  I'm confused and frustrated."

"With me?"

"With myself.  The whole ordeal.  I think Potter's got the right idea.  I really don't want to do this anymore and we haven't even started.  If they couldn't help us, why did they even tell us about this in the first place?"

"I don't know.  Let's just get some sleep.  We'll worry about it in the morning."

*

"Oh, Ron, Ginny told me you got in last night."

Wobbling into the kitchen, Ron still wasn't seeing straight when he was mauled by someone who he could only guess to be his mother.

"Mum?"

"I've been so worried!  There's been hardly any word from Hideout B, and then Rebekah told us all about this Prophecy . . . Are you all right?"

"I'm fine.  I'm having a hard time breathing."

"Why's that?"

"You're squishing me."

"Oh," said Mrs. Weasley, releasing Ron and taking a step back.  "Are you hungry?  I made breakfast.  Harry and Hermione are already eating and I'm sure they'd love your company."

"Yeah, mum.  Sure.  Thanks."

Ron wandered over to the table, dropped next to Hermione, and looked between his friends.

"Who told my mum about the Prophecy?"

"Rebekah.  Me.  Blaise.  Everyone here knows.  It's all we've been talking about.  It was funny at first.  Fred and George dropped by and when they heard it, they claimed they always knew you weren't a true Weasley.  Did you know that you're too hot-tempered to be a Weasley?  You're also a snob."

"My brothers said I'm a snob?"

"They said they weren't surprised you were a prince because you certainly act like it," said Hermione.  "I think it was a joke, but I never know when the twins are being sincere."

"How's Malfoy?" said Harry.

"Why?"

"He seemed different last night."

"Was it really horrible living with him?" said Hermione.  "We can move your room if you'd like."

"No," said Ron.  "It's fine.  Draco's . . . he's a good guy.  Misguided sometimes, but we've become friends over the past couple of days.  It wasn't horrible living with him at all.  He's . . . I think if you give him a chance, you'll learn to like him, too."

Mrs. Weasley placed a plate before Ron, piles of hot food still steaming.

"You look like you don't know what to do with real food anymore," said Draco, walking into the kitchen.  He still wore yesterday's dirty robes, but only the bottom was visible.  The large quilt from the unused bed in their room lay around Draco's shoulders.  Sitting next to Ron, he buried his face in his arm and sneezed.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

"I was hungry."

"You poor dear," said Mrs. Weasley, feeling the back of Draco's head.  "I think you've caught fever."

"I told you not to jump in that lake in the middle of November."

"I was dirty."

"And now you're sick."

"I'm not si --" said Draco, but a sneeze cut him off.

"You should be in bed," said Mrs. Weasley.  "Go on.  Back upstairs.  I'll bring you some juice and start on a soup.  I'll have Remus dig up a potion.  You'll be better again in no time."

"Thank you, but I'll be fine," said Draco, sneezing.

"I won't take no for an answer."

"She really won't," said Ron.

"When did you jump into a lake?" said Hermione.  Ron looked to her, frowning.  "I'm curious."

"So am I," said Harry.

"Nosy boy, Harry Potter.  Wants to know everything.  Poor Kreacher.  If Mistress only knew, wretched Malfoy vermin in her house."

Ron looked past Draco to see Kreacher emerge from his "bedroom," muttering under his breath like he so often did.  Letting the quilt drop a little from around his shoulders, Draco's eyes found the house elf.  They narrowed, lids eclipsing blue.

"You," said Draco.

Hermione pretended not to notice Draco's reaction toward Kreacher.  Ever since Kreacher's blatant lie to Harry about Sirius, Hermione wasn't as keen on the old house elf.  In fact, Ron saw her eyeing the mounted house elf heads almost longingly the last time they were here, though she still went on about S.P.E.W. whenever down in the Hogwarts kitchens.

The last time Ron saw Kreacher bow so strange and low it had been back when Sirius was alive.  Draco was having none of it, though, and as soon as Kreacher's nose came close to touching the ground, Draco grabbed him by his filthy rag and dragged him upright.

"Stop pretending you respect me.  If you bow like that again, I'm going to box your ears in.  You stay out of my sight while I'm here, you understand?"

"Kreacher understands.  Nasty Malfoy brat, blood traitor.  Mistress --"

"I don't care about you Mistress.  Are you daft?  Now go back to your little den and stay there for the rest of the day.  I don't care if you wanted to go visit your dear Mistress and cry by her portrait."

Kreacher started to walk back to the boiler cupboard as Draco released another loud sneeze into the quilt.  Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley each stared at him in turn, and Draco looked up from the blanket, frowning.

"What?  I hate that thing.  Think it's high time someone beheads him, too.  Would make his dream come true.  Be the high point of his miserable life.  Honestly.  Spent Christmas Day at the manor two years ago.  Had more of him than I could stand.  I almost missed Dobby."

Harry made a strange, strangled cough at the mention of Dobby, and Ron caught the small grin that spread across Harry's lips.  Mrs. Weasley, however, was now bearing down on Draco, pouring juice down his throat and pulling him out of his seat.

"That's enough excitement for this morning," she said, dragging him.

"I'm capable of fighting through the day," said Draco as he disappeared into the hall.  "Please don't make me stay in bed."

"He doesn't have a prayer," said Ron, grinning.  "Once my mum gets an idea in her head, there's no stopping her."

"I have work to do today, so I hope you'll excuse me," said Hermione, standing.

"See you later."

Hermione gave a small wave and left Harry sitting across from Ron in silence.  For a few seconds, Ron picked at his bacon, which had gone cold over the course of breakfast events.  It was just as well.  Ron's stomach would probably explode from a good, warm breakfast after all those bowls of porridge at Hideout B.  Still, a sinking sensation set in his stomach and Ron threw the bacon back on the plate.

"What's wrong?"

"It's cold."

"I'm surprised you didn't eat it right away.  Your eating habits seemed perfectly normal last night."

"Yeah, but I was walking all day and listening to Draco whine.  I was starving.  And, I don't know, that was bread and broth.  I'm getting used to bread and broth, but there was still steam on that food.  I was in awe and confusion."

"I don't get it."

"You weren't eating meals at Hideout B."

"That bad?"

"Half the food was unrecognizable and the rest of it was going bad.  Or it was porridge.  Damn Snape and his tasteless meals."

"What are you planning for today?"

"I don't know.  I'll have to visit Draco and see how he's doing.  I think he's already upset with me.  It would not bode well if I didn't put in an appearance."

"He seemed fine with you last night."

"We passed words when it was time for bed.  I think I may have done something I shouldn't have.  Said something that was better left unsaid.  That sort of thing.  You know, what I do best.  Then again, he was very sensitive about something trivial."

"Don't give me sensitive.  Blaise keeps telling me I'm too sensitive about things."

"Don't let Draco hear that.  He'll blame it on your gender crisis, and I'll be forced to reprimand him.  I really hate doing that so spare me some pain."

"I'll try."

"Thanks."

"Ron, you aren't eating."

Mrs. Weasley was back, peering over Ron's shoulder at the cold food.

"I ate a little.  How's Draco?"

"I put him back in bed.  He's to stay there for the rest of the day.  Coughing himself into a fit.  Poor dear.  I'm sending Remus out for something.  Do drop by later and let him know you aren't having a fabulous time with your friends while he's stuck in bed."

"Who says I won't be having a fabulous time with my friends?"

"Because the drawing room needs dusting."

"More cleaning?  Every time I'm here there's cleaning that needs to be done."

"Do you think a house keeps itself clean on its own?"

"When it has a house elf, it should."

"If we don't take care of this place, it's going to get just as bad as it was before.  Unless you want to de-doxyify again, I suggest you get moving."

Staying silent until she left, Ron grinned at Harry from across the table.

"Good to know she's realized there's no need to fawn over me anymore.  Suppose my welcome party is over."

"Right.  Come on," said Harry, standing.

Ron followed as they headed out of the kitchen and into the drawing room.  The walls were still a hideous shade of olive green, but the tapestries were new, fresh, and an ivory color that complimented the walls.  A sneaky suspicion suggested that it was his mum behind this transformation.  The sofas and chairs were cleaned, and unlike when he had been part of the aforementioned doxy party, they looked strong enough to support human life.

"Not much needs to be done," said Harry.  "The Order's kept good care of everything.  Just a little dusting on the side tables and the desk."

Nodding, Ron grabbed a rag from a pile on the sofa.  He supposed his mum left them there at a previous occasion to commemorate his arrival.  Most of the ten minutes he spent dusting was on one table, polishing to perfection as Harry rushed through as much as he could.

Dropping the cloth, Ron walked over to one of the windows and peered outside.  People passed along Grimmauld Place, and the door slammed downstairs.

"Kingsley's here," said Ron.  "Just saw him come in."

"Haven't seen him in a while," said Harry.  He paused, wringing the rag through his fingers, and then he turned away again.  "Ron?  What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"I don't . . . You're different.  You're acting different."

"I've been acting different for a long time.  Maybe you just didn't notice."

"That's not what I'm talking about.  I have noticed.  Ever since you were made prefect fifth year you've been acting different, but . . . This is different."

"Was that supposed to make sense?"

"Yes.  You're acting different again."

Ron shrugged.  "I'm on a down swing.  Everything's been complete chaos for the past couple of days.  Yesterday was the first day in a while that I didn't get a vision.  Snape treated me like I would combust if I did too much after one, and now they aren't even there.  Apparently I'm a Mage and I have to find Absconditus.  Don't ask me how I plan on going about that one.  And Draco --"

"None of us know what we plan on doing about this Absconditus thing."

"I think Draco has a few ideas, but he's holding back."

"Why?"

"Because he's the outcast.  Back then, it was because he was Bade Mizar, bastard child.  Now, it's because he's Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy.  I mean, you and I are in this together, and I can't say I'm surprised.  Blaise shies away from most people, but you seem to be hitting it off without much of an effort.  Draco --"

"I get it.  He's been annoying me for years.  You've been his enemy since you met.  Blaise is in his house and doesn't even like him.  He's outnumbered."

"Unfamiliar territory.  I'd probably cry if you threw me in a group of Death Eaters and told me to play nice.  Not only that, but I don't have much of a choice if I want to live."

"No one's making Malfoy stay here."

"I can tell it may be awhile until you begin to understand Draco."

"And you do."

"Better than you.  Draco wants to be here, but he's outnumbered, and for someone who's used to being the front man, it's unsettling.  The only one who he has on his side is me, and you're my best mate.  Besides, like I said, I think I said something I shouldn't have last night."

"You scare me when you get close to philosophical."

"Believe me, my head hurts."  Ron wandered across the room, standing before the most noble and ancient tapestry of the House of Black.  It really was ugly.  Shame they couldn't find a way to reverse the Permanent Sticking charm on it, especially after all those hideous holes Mrs. Black burned into it.  Scanning the bottom, Ron laughed, and Harry wandered over to his side.

"What's so funny?"

"Looks like Lucius and Narcissa never had children."

Ron watched as Harry's eyes scanned the tapestry, found the name Narcissa Black, and noticed that where Draco's name had been the last time, there was a large gash.

"Kreacher," said Harry.  Ron nodded.

"Draco needs to see this.  He'll love it."  Ron slid one finger in the hole, and the other slid into the gash next to it.  "Phoenix and Draco, reduced to nothing more than ugly space on the family tree."

"You think Malfoy would want to see this?"

"I think he'd get his kicks from it, yes.  There's nothing that quite makes those Malfoy brothers happy like knowing they've been despised and disowned by the rest of the family.  Phoenix loves it so much that he changed his surname."

"Excuse me for saying so, but there's something wrong with that picture."

"No need to be excused.  I'm well aware, but it doesn't change the truth."  Ron paused, staring hard at the space where Draco's name should be, and slid his finger out of the hole.  "I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"You know how last night you told me about having memories?  That you remembered Blaise from back then?"

"Yeah."

"Do you hate that?  Feeling like your actions are controlled by a life that isn't yours?"

"Yeah.  It's like, I have feelings for Blaise, but I question them because they came out of nowhere, and they only started after I remembered.  I hate that I'm following on these instincts, but I hate that I question it, too, because I do have feelings for him."

Ron nodded.  "I understand.  I feel like I have two instincts: mine and Ryan's.  The scary thing is I'm starting to forget which is mine."

"I know what you mean.  I really hate Hero.  I hate her, and I don't know why.  And why?  I don't -- why did this have to happen to me?  Why change me like this?"

"Someone must really not want you with Blaise.  Maybe they have a crush on him and wanted to get you out of the way."

"Lot of good that did.  I made sure I roped him in anyway."

"Listen, I don't know how to say this, but last night when we were talking, I left a few things out.  I know I was supposed to fill in the holes and be honest and all that, but . . . I don't know.  I was selective about what I told you and what I left out."

"What did you leave out?"

"The reason I knew there was never anything more than friendship between Hero and Ryan is because Ryan was in love with someone else.  And it's coming back at me just as strongly as it was before."

Harry opened his mouth, hesitated, and shut it again.  He looked at Ron hard, giving the other boy no choice but to meet his eye or keep his focus on the ground, because looking anywhere else was not an option.

"Draco?"

"I don't know what's going on between us.  One day we were fighting, I had a vision, and then I found out he was Bade.  Ever since we started school again, I've been getting visions as Ryan.  And every time I get one . . . It freaked me out at first.  Bade kissing me, not knowing who I was, but I fell in love with him, and then I found out it was Malfoy.  And I was properly repulsed and terrified for awhile.

"I don't know how it happened.  Draco came to me.  He's been sleeping in my bed ever since we found out.  We don't acknowledge it much.  But then . . . something's happening.  Something.  He acknowledged it.  I don't think he knows, either.  I think he wants me to tell him.  But I can't, because I don't know."

"What -- did you -- I mean --"

"I slept with him."

Ron fell into one of the chairs.

"And?"

"And nothing.  We woke up the next morning, got dressed, and kept walking."

"You slept with him on the way here?"

"It was a very unflattering scene.  I don't know what you imagined, but it was cold, he was wet, and it was all together unappealing."

"You slept with him after you got run out of Mundungus Fletcher's?"

"He looked so damn cute shivering and soaked."

"So this was after his heroic attempt at a bath."

"I knew you would react this way!  I don't know why I bothered even telling you."

"Wait!  This is a momentous occasion.  I'm not the only one shagging guys."

"You should be shagging guys considering --"

"Don't finish that sentence.  I don't want to hear any conversations about how, you know, technically speaking, I'm straight.  Fred and George have said it all.  There's nothing left to say."

Piercing shrieks interrupted their conversation.  Harry cracked open the door, they were met with the full force of Mrs. Black's shouts.

"Subordinate abomination, shame of a good family name, waste of my flesh . . ."

"Now you take that back before a sharp surface accidentally comes in contact with you."

"You're a filthy blood traitor . . ."

"That does it."

Ron shook his head, closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the door jamb.

"Draco."

"What?"

"I'd know that screeching anywhere.  Only Draco Malfoy would get into a serious fight with a portrait."

"We're talking about other things involving Draco Malfoy later."

Ron gave Harry a weary look, heading out of the room.

They reached Draco just as Kingsley pulled him away from the portrait, leaving Lupin and Tonks to pull the curtains shut.  From what Ron could see before Mrs. Black disappeared, Draco left ragged scratches in the surface from those fingernails Ron loved so much.

"We were just about to come for you," said Tonks, falling against the wall.  The effort of shutting up Mrs. Black seemed to have drained her.

"I have some bad news, I'm afraid," said Kingsley.  "Two nights ago, the Ministry noticed a surge of magic coming from a remote location by Mundungus Fletcher's home, and you can bet that if the Ministry noticed, the You-Know-Who knows."  Draco stopped struggling, looking from Kingsley to Ron.

"What does that mean?"

"The goods news is that even if he managed to follow your trail, this place is still under the Fidelus Charm.  The bad news is that he'll be watching the path between Grimmauld Place.  Now, to be fair, this could not be your fault at all.  From what I understand, Mundungus spent the better part of that night running from Ministry officials.  It's the main reason no on has investigated this matter thus far, but I'm sure the path is being watched."

"We're shutting it down," said Tonks.  "A messenger has been sent to Hideout B by a different path.  No one is to pass between the two places without taking a different way."

"Thank you for letting us know," said Lupin.

"Before I go, there's a matter I'd like to discuss with you in private," said Kingsley, looking from Ron to Harry to Draco.

"Of course," said Lupin, nodding, and he departed with Tonks and Kingsley through one of the curtains hanging over a doorway.

"They're talking about us," said Draco.

"You should be in bed," said Ron.

"I don't want to be in bed."

"I'll come up with you and visit."

"How kind."

"He could always entertain you in other ways," said Harry, smirking.  Draco frowned, arching an eyebrow, and then his eyes grew wide.

"You told him?"

"I thought you wanted me to!"

For a moment, Ron thought Draco might start to twitch or go insane and attack his face.  Instead, Draco lifted his head in a move that Ron thought may be more rote than anything else.

"I only wanted to know if you were going to tell him, and I'll take this as a yes.  And Potter, more comments like that are going to get you in a place you don't want to be."

"On the receiving end of one of your woman jokes?  I've heard them all.  The Weasley twins know."

"Can we please not fight?" said Ron.  "I'm already sick of hearing you bicker, and if we're going to accomplish anything, you both need to shut up.  Yes, Draco, I told him, because last night when I hinted that I didn't plan on it, you got very upset.  He's fine with it.  I think he may ask for details, which is why we need to escape, and what better escape than to put you in bed.  It's my turn to shove the meds down your throat."

"I'm perfectly --"

Ron imagined the next word was to be "fine," but Draco sneezed through his sentence, and his battle was lost.  Making plans to meet that night in the drawing room for discussion on future plans, Ron led Draco upstairs and shut their door behind him.


	14. Deviation

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein Draco is sick, Absconditus is a bedtime story, the Order holds a meeting, and the Mages hold a meeting of their own.**

**If I were J.K., I'd have money and a British accent.  No such things apply.**

****

**_Chapter Fourteen:  Deviation_**

Rustling sheets pulled Ron away from the large stack of parchments before him and onto the bed by the window.  Sleepy eyelids fluttered and opened, Draco staring up at Ron through a thick fringe of platinum blond hair.  Ron smiled, allowed the quill to drop from his fingers, and turned about face.

"How do you feel?"

"My head's pounding, I'm covered in sweat, and I'm freezing."

"Not good, then.  Shame.  I was hoping you'd be up for a little action."

"What are you proposing?"

"I'm not proposing anything.  I was talking about this Prophecy thing.  What were you thinking of?"

"Er -- nothing.  Forget it."

"Right.  Do you need me to find Lupin?  He's bringing potions for you."

"The werewolf?"

"One and the same.  Why?  Want to spend some quality time with him?"

"No, thank you."

"Do you need juice?  Food?  Help out of the bed?"

"I'm fine where I am, thanks.  Even if I did want up, I wouldn't need you to help me."

"I know, but if I don't offer, my mum'll kill me."

Draco pushed the large pile of blankets off his chest and sat up against the headboard.  Blankets pooled atop his lap.  Flicking the hair out of his eyes, Draco rolled his neck, cracked it, and threaded his fingers through his roots to settle on his scalp.

"If your head is really bothering you --"

"Just a bit.  Sat up too fast."

Ron stood from the chair, pushed it in, and walked over to the bed.  Pushing the blankets away and smoothing the sheet, Ron sat beside Draco, and snaked his legs into the warmth.  At first, Draco remained unmoved; his long, slender fingers lay motionless on the thick green cotton.  Without warning, he leaned against Ron, allowing his head to rest against Ron's own.  Yawning, Draco turned his face into Ron's shoulder.

"What did you tell Potter?"

"Sorry?"

"I've been dying to ask you and forcing myself not to seem desperate.  What did you tell Potter when you told him about us?  I'd like to know what he thinks is going on."

"Can't tell you that much.  Don't know myself.  Harry's thoughts are a mystery.  What I told him was that you and I were together then, and that our feelings seem parallel to what he's going through with Blaise.  That I don't know what's going on with us, but that there's something there.  Told him that we shagged."

"And?"

"That was what he said."

"I see."

"I thought you wanted me to say something."

"I did.  I'm glad you did.  I just -- Potter's never going to leave me be on this, you know."

"I know, but I can't help you with that."

"How long do you think I can go avoiding him?"

"Not very.  He's staying here, too, and we have to meet soon for Prophecy discussion.  Are you going to be up to it?"

"Even if I wouldn't, I'd come down anyway, whether your mother likes it or not."

"Fine by me.  Get dressed, then.  We'll meet you in the drawing room in ten minutes."

"All right.  Ron?"

"Yes?"

Draco grabbed Ron by the shoulders and yanked him forward, connecting their lips and smashing their teeth in an awkward rush.  Ron blinked, stared at the all too unattractive close-up of Draco's forehead, and then allowed his eyelids to drop.  He followed Draco's lead, moving with his mouth, counteracting each play of the lips.  When Draco pulled back, Ron felt a cool wave splash at his skin and the flesh of his lips tingled with the lingering kisses.

"Well," Ron said, pulling at his collar.  "That was -- er -- nice.  Quite unexpected.  Really -- er --"

"Stop stumbling over yourself and meet with Potter.  You're going to embarrass me and I look terrible in red."

Ron suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and headed for the door on shaky legs.  Just avoiding a bureau and a large bruise on his left thigh, Ron walked into the corridor and shut the door behind him.

*

The curious and uneasy look that Blaise gave Draco when the latter entered the drawing room didn't go unnoticed, not by Draco or by anyone else in the room.  Draco stilled in the doorway, shifted his footing, and tried to glare at Blaise with little success.  Watching the exchange, Ron smiled at Draco and then to Harry.

"Blaise," said Harry.

"What?"

"Let him stare," said Draco.  "How often do Malfoys shag Weasleys anyway?"

"To be fair, it was the other way around," said Ron.

"Point well taken.  Malfoys let Weasleys shag them even less often."

"I wasn't staring," said Blaise.  "But you have to admit, Draco, it is hard to believe."

"Because you shagging Potter is so realistic."

"I can see who the problem is going to be in this arrangement," said Harry.  "Perhaps we should just give up now if we aren't willing to work together."

"He's willing," said Ron.  "He just doesn't like people staring at him."

"He doesn't like people talking for him, either."  Draco crossed the room.  Harry and Blaise sat on the opposite side of a square table from Ron.  Ripping out the chair next to Ron, Draco sat and folded his fingers together.  "I didn't run into your mother.  I assume this means I won't get in trouble."

"Don't be so sure.  There's a meeting of the Order going on now thanks to that magic surge the other night."

"It wasn't our fault.  It never would have happened if you hadn't signed us up to bunk with Mundungus Fletcher."

"Which you will never forgive me for.  I know, I know."

"I never said I would never forgive you for it.  I've forgiven you, but I'm ready to let you forget just yet."

"The topic of conversation," said Harry, "is Absconditus and this bloody fountain that's causing so much trouble, so if we can stick to that --"

"You were the one who started in on me," said Draco.

"And you're only encouraging it."

"Right.  Fine.  Good.  Absconditus," said Ron.  "Let's review the facts.  Four people accused of murder and condemned to die.  Souls bound by a Keeper and reborn to seek revenge upon those who really did the crime.   You-Know-Who."

"Voldemort," said Harry, Draco, and Blaise.

"Right, him.  We're still missing a few facts. One, Larrissa Mizar.  Two, who ensured that Larrissa and Reynaldo would come back?  It wouldn't work one-sided, would it?  Unless it was the same Keeper.  Three, we need our Keeper.  Four --"

"Why are we listing things?"

"Draco, shush, I'm trying to talk.  Four --"

"We're listing things because we're missing a few facts.  That's what we're listing.  Try to keep up," said Blaise.  He scribbled across a sheet of parchment sitting before him, never taking his eyes off to look at Draco.

"As I was saying . . ."

"You don't have to be so rude about it."

"If you were paying attention -"

"I'm trying to talk," said Ron.

"Tell your boyfriend that," said Harry.  "He started running his mouth in the first place, not that we should be surprised.  I knew he was going to be intolerable."

"You see why I didn't want to do this?" said Draco.  Ron dropped his head in his hands.

"This is never going to work this way," said Ron.  "Does anyone realize what's going on?  We're at Grimmauld Place because Hogwarts is run over by Death Eaters.  The Order is having a meeting because those Death Eaters could know about our path between hideouts.  This isn't even to mention that we're centuries-old Mages come back from the dead to save our world, and all we can do is fight with each other."

"Merlin, Ron, relax," said Harry.

"You don't have to be so uptight," said Blaise.

"Honestly," said Draco.  Ron glared.

"Does anyone have a plan?"

"I say we stall for as long as we can," said Blaise.  "I've got nothing.  How are we supposed to find this damned fountain?"

"All I've got is Hermione suggesting that we research about the Mages, but how are we supposed to do that when we're hiding out?" said Harry.  "Besides, what good is that going to do?  I doubt we're going to open up one of Hermione's books and find a map of Absconditus."\

"Even if we did, I doubt we'd find a detailed instruction manual on how to get in."

"You're so set on this, Ron.  Don't you have an idea?"

"The article said something about a theory that the fountain is located beneath Hogwarts.  And we're supposed to be descendants of the founders.  We could start there."

"I have an idea," said Draco.  Harry, Blaise, and Ron exchanged looks before turning their attention back to Draco.  He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.  With his head raised and shoulders squared, the familiar sneer fell onto his lips.  "If you're willing to listen to me, that is."

"Draco," said Ron.  He tried to ignore Harry who glared at him with his lips puckered, his eyes darkened.  "Please don't make me have another fit today."

The sneer faltered and disappeared, but the poise remained.

"I think Granger --" he paused and shuddered, "has the right idea.  We need to find out more about our situation -- facts, not speculation."

"Where are we supposed to find facts on this?  It's a legend," said Blaise.  "It's a bedtime story.  My mother told it to me when I was little."

"Your drunken mother?  Did you feel you could relate to poor Lorenzo Merak?"

"Why don't you just keep your mouth shut and do the world a favor?"

"And while he's at it, maybe you could both swallow your pride or your tongues, whichever comes first," said Ron.  Draco's shoulders slumped just enough for Ron to notice and his hand dropped under the table, finding Ron's fingers and curling into them.

"Blaise had a fair question," said Harry.  "Where are we supposed to research?"

"There are several sources I can think of, and they're all in close perimeter to each other, but we have to get out of here to do it."  Draco hesitated, looking around the table.  "There's one historian who knows everything there is to know about wizard legend --"

"We can't talk to anyone who isn't trusted by the Order," said Harry.

"He's trusted by the Order," said Ron.  "You're talking about my grandfather, right?"  Draco nodded.  "I think you've got something there.  He taught Pureblood Ancestry and Mythology years ago, before the class was discontinued, and then reinstated.  Most of what he can tell us is fact.  It comes from documents passed down through the family since the Malfoy-Weasley split."

"I know," said Draco.  "Some of the surviving documents are still in the Manor.  Some of them have been passed down to Malfoy City.  All from the time the Malfoy name was first instituted.  Seems like a good starting point to me."

"My grandfather and your Manor.  That might work."

"Either way, it's something," said Harry.  Ron met his eye, a grin tugging at his lips.  Harry gave a half-shrug, returning the grin.  "How do we get away without anyone noticing we're gone?  I know most of the Order members will disapprove, and I doubt we can get Rebekah to cover for us."

"I agree," said Draco.  "This has to be sly and independent.  No one but the four of us can know.  That includes Granger."

"Are you mad?" said Ron.

"What makes you think we're going to run out and tell Hermione?" said Harry.  "We don't tell her everything, you know."

"In fact, we usually don't tell her anything."

"And we know better than you just how stupid it would be to tell her."

"I can hear her blathering now.  'Ron, you can't be serious.  You know how dangerous that is?  I'll tell your mother if you go.' "

"She has to consult a book, too.  Don't forget that."

"Remind me why she's your friend again," said Draco.

"We like her," said Harry.

"Yeah, and she wouldn't leave us alone first year," said Ron.  "After you lock a troll in a lavatory with someone, you have to become their friend."

"What?" said Draco.

"Nothing."

A soft knock interrupted and the door creaked open, Lupin's head popping into the space.

"You four getting along all right?"

"Perfectly," said Harry, his eyes flickering to Draco.  The shape of Lupin's lips twisted into a half-grin, holding back laughter.  Draco arched an eyebrow and glanced to Ron.

"I wanted to let you know that the meeting's over and ask you to come with me for a moment.  We have business to discuss."

"We'll be with you in a moment," said Harry.  Lupin nodded, told them to meet him in the meeting room, and shut the door.

"That doesn't sound good," said Blaise.

"Business is never good."

"So what do you propose?" said Draco.

"That we go hear what they have to say.  At the very least.  We have to act as normal as possible while planning our escape."

"It has to be soon.  We have little time to waste, and the longer we put this off, the harder it's going to be."

"And the longer we wait to meet Lupin, the stranger it's going to look," said Ron, standing.  He shoved in his chair and headed for the door.  "Is anyone with me?"

Blaise, Harry, and Draco exchanged glances.  Frowning, the three stood and joined Ron, leaving the drawing room in direction of the meeting room.  As this was where Order business was conducted, anyone not involved was rarely invited in.  Harry looked doubtful.

Kingsley, Tonks, Mrs. Weasley, and other members of the order sat around a table.  Professor Leiss stood off to the side with Professor Marcositi.  Even, Ron noticed with a sinking heart, Mundungus Fletcher was present.  With a quick glance to Draco, Ron sat in one of the four unoccupied chairs.

"Your father went to speak with the other students," said Mrs. Weasley.  "I'd just as well had you hear this with them, but Professor Leiss requested differently."

"I wanted you to be free to ask questions," said Leiss.  Mrs. Weasley sniffed, and either Leiss didn't notice or didn't care.  "Not everyone knows about this Mage business and I suggest we keep it that way."

"So do I," said Lupin.  A murmur of agreements passed through the room.

"But we don't have to tell them everything!"

"They aren't children anymore, Molly," said Moody.  "They need to hear what's going on."

"We're depending on them," said Leiss.  "All of them.  This isn't just about Harry anymore.  All four boys are involved.  They have a right to know."

"And we want to know," said Ron.  "What's up?"

"Well . . ."

"We're leaving, aren't we?"

"How did you . . ."

"I can read it in your eyes."

"Your instincts are getting sharp," said Leiss.

"He freaks me out when he does that," said Harry.

"You aren't the only one," said Draco.

"We've decided that it may not be safe here," said Tonks.  "They're sure to know you were on your way to London, and too many people know about this place."

"But it may not have even been us," said Draco, looking to Mundungus.  "There's no proof."

"But they have a good idea.  This was the perfect place until we lost Sirius," said Kingsley.  "That's all they need.  It's too close to London for you to be heading anywhere else."

"And they don't need to get in," said Lupin.  "All they need to do is hang around the area.  Even if we forbid you to leave . . ."

"Well, that's what we were trying to avoid in the first place," said Tonks.  "We don't want you backed into a corner."

"And they have our Secret Keeper.  It isn't good sense."

"Where are we going?" said Ron.

"We're taking a back road to Hideout A.  From there, some of you will go to Hideout B, but we can't send you directly there because we don't have a safe road mapped out yet."

"I bet we're going to Hideout B," said Ron.  Draco smirked, taking Ron's hand under the table.

"Do you really think it's not safe here?" said Harry.

"We can't be sure," said Kingsley.  "The relocation is only a precautionary.  Nothing to get worried about."

"Right.  Of course not," said Blaise.

"I see where you're going," said Draco, "and I don't mean to be the annoying, cynical one, but won't that seem strange?  We aren't the smallest group of people, not to mention half of us are high profile.  Won't that attract more attention than we can afford?"

"I understand where you're coming from," said Tonks.  "We had some of the same misgivings, but this back road is rarely traveled and not well known.  Some of you will be flying with Remus and Alastor.  The important thing is to get this place emptied out before too many of them show up.  Once it's guarded, we have little chance."

"Don't we always?" said Harry.  Ron sighed.

*

"We just got here and we're already packing," said Draco.

The mattress sunk beneath Ron's weight as he dropped next to Draco.  Snaking an arm around Draco's waist, Ron pulled their bodies closer and buried his nose into the crook of Draco's neck.

"I love you," said Ron.

Running his fingers over the exposed flesh on the small of Ron's back, Draco trailed onto the worn material of a Chudley Cannons T-shirt.  Following Ron's spine, Draco spread his palm against the back of Ron's neck and twined his fingers around bright, ginger hairs.

"No one's ever said that to me before."

"That they love you?"

Draco nodded.

"What about your parents."

"Are you serious?"

Unmoved, Draco stared.  Ron licked his lips and swallowed.

"Right, then."

"What's it feel like?"

"To love you?"

"Yes.  I don't think I know how to love."

"Don't say stupid things you don't mean.  You always were melodramatic.  I should have known it was you in first year.  Only Bade Mizar would strut like he was God despite running around with his tail between his legs the day before."

"I've never strutted, and I don't run with my tail between my legs either."

"Have it your way."

"You don't believe me."

"Course not."

". . . Do you really love me?"

Ron blinked, lifting his forehead from its place on Draco's shoulder and pulling away from Draco's fingers wrapped in his hair.  He paused, licked his lips, and kissed the dip just below Draco's ear.

"I really love you."

Draco's eyes shut as he shifted.

"I love you, too."

"But you don't know how to love."

"I forgot.  Until you."

"You're a cheese ball."

"And you aren't?"

"Not at your caliber," said Ron.  Draco smacked Ron across the arm, and pressed his forehead against Ron's shoulder.  "But then again, Malfoy's always do everything at the highest caliber.   They never settle for anything less than the best."

"Until scar-headed Potheads get their fathers landed in Azkaban and most of the family fortune is lost.  We're lucky we got to keep the manor, and that's only because my mother played abused wife and made me the abused child.  She's treated me with little more than tolerance and nonchalance since as long as I can remember."

"You deserve better."

"No I don't.  But I've got more than I deserve and I'm not complaining."

"You always complain.  What are you talking about?"

"We need to pack."

"Pack?  I never unpacked."

Draco glanced around the room.

"Neither did I.  I've been sick."

"You sound better."

"I think it was the potion."

"At least you aren't sneezing anymore."

"But I could have thrown my germs at the Death Eaters."

"Because that would have been effective."

"You two ready?"  Harry stuck his head in the doorway.  "Rebekah wants to get moving."

"We'll be down in ten minutes."

"Sure."

Harry shut the door behind him.  His footsteps echoed and reverberated up the corridor and through the walls.  Ron got to his feet and tried to pull Draco with him, leaving Draco in an unceremonious pile of black robes and blond hair on the floor.

The Order decided to close off Hideout C last night, effective immediately.  Everyone was allowed one last night's sleep in order to rejuvenate for today's Big Move.  Ron, Draco, Blaise, and Harry were going on foot rather than air as Blaise wasn't a big fan of flying, and it was more likely that they'd be caught by air than land.

Draco grabbed his bag from the floor and followed Ron out of the room.  They headed down to the drawing room where they found their travel group waiting.  Most of the students Draco and Ron did not recognize, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws from younger years.  Ginny and Hermione were with them, and Draco noted this to Ron.

They set off in groups of three, meeting outside London to continue.  The Mages were separated for that time, and only when the group rejoined did Ron slide to the back of the group.  Dropping his pace, Draco fell back to join him.  One by one, they fell behind, and soon all but Harry were trailing several yards behind the group.  Harry was busy entertaining Hermione's probing questions.  Ron wished he would have left the troll in the lavatory with her first year.

"How do we ditch Granger?" said Draco.

"What is the plan, anyway?" said Ron.

"We're trying to go to your Manors, right?" said Blaise.

"Right."

"And the Weasley Manor is in Saxon Falls, right?"

"Right."

"And we're passing through Saxon Falls sometime after dinner, right?"

"Where are we going with this?"

"We're slipping away," said Draco.  "Very Slytherin plan of yours, Zabini."

"I'm there for a reason, Malfoy.  Harry helped, though."

"Of course.  Because you can't do anything without your Gryffindor boyfriend."

"You have a Gryffindor boyfriend."

"Ron doesn't count.  We're in love."

"I love Harry."

"Really?" said Ron.  Blaise rolled his eyes.  "Does he yell at you all the time for things that aren't your fault, too?"

"Not yet."

"Wait.  About once a month he goes into these wild mood swings --"

"Like PMS," said Draco, snickering.  Ron elbowed him in the ribs.  "Can we get back to the original question?  You know, our problem?  One bushy-haired Mudblood?"

"Don't call Hermione a Mudblood," said Ron.  "I'd hate to have to tell you I love you and kick your nuts into your chest all in the same day."

"Weasley, getting faster on the uptake?  It must be me.  My saliva is improving your knowledge."

"Yes, Malfoy, that's it.  When we snog, you pass some of your brain cells onto me, and I get a little smarter."

"I'd use this conversation as a springboard to snog more often," said Blaise.  "But that's just me."

"Not a bad idea," said Ron.

"If I wasn't so involved with needing to get rid of Granger -- which no one else seems to care about -- I'd take you up on that offer."

"Look, we'll ditch her after we eat," said Blaise.  "We'll just tell her we have some important Mage business to discuss and that she won't be able to help us.  She'll be so angry that we dare question her intelligence that she won't even look at us until we get to Hideout A, and by then we'll be long gone."

"Fair enough," said Draco.

They trekked for much of the day.  Dinner wasn't much more than a typical Hideout B meal, as Ron soon discovered, and he reminded himself of the nice, warm food that would greet him at his grandparents'.  His stomach quieted long enough to offend Hermione, and he dragged Harry back to Blaise and Draco.

"Did Blaise tell you the plan?" said Draco.

"Of course he did.  I knew before you did."

"Sorry, Potter, I forgot you're buggering his arse."

"Actually, he's buggering my arse.  I was the girl in our relationship."

"Bad mental image," said Ron.  "Don't ever put that there again."

"I've already been tortured enough thinking about you and him.  It's payback time."

"No graphic buggering images at all," said Blaise.  "I have a headache, I ate mulch for dinner, and it looks like it's going to rain.  If it rains . . ."

"We'll have the cover of rain on our side when we slip away?" said Draco.

"That, too, but I was going to say that we're going to get sick and soaked by the time we get to Weasley Manor.  It's on the farthest outskirts."

"I'm already sick," said Draco.  "Let's get going."

Dusk settled less than an hour ago when they fell back, and under the cover of night slipped off in the opposite direction.  Serving as a guide, Ron led the way to Weasley Manor.

**Update next Tuesday.  Until then, leave a review.  Tell your friends.  Do a little dance.  Read a book.  Fly a kite.  Do something constructive.  Have a nice day.**


	15. Weasley Manor

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Email: andromedanprincess@hotmail.com**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein Ron is the good one, Harry's a lil' tyke, Blaise isn't a drunk, and Draco's just a Malfoy.**

**Disclaimer:  One day I was sitting on the train and the idea of Harry Potter suddenly came to me.  Being the marvelously brilliant person that I am, I scribbled down the idea immediately in hopes that I would write an immensely popular seven book series.  I can tell when one of my ideas is genius after all, and . . . oh, hell.  If I were J.K. Rowling, I wouldn't be wasting my time with fanfiction.  I'd be writing the sixth book.**

****

**_Chapter Fifteen:  Weasley Manor_**

"What's the plan?" said Harry.  "Are you going to walk up to the door, give them a ring, and say, 'Hello, Grandmum.  I was in the area and thought I'd drop by.  These are my friends, the Mages.  We're on a quest to destroy Voldemort.  Any ideas?' "

"Actually, there are better chances that the house elf or servants will attend to us upon arrival.  My grandparents don't concern themselves with answering doors."

"Of course they don't," said Draco.  "Why bother when there's someone else to do it for them?"

"Not all of us grew up with servants, being pampered, spoiled, and showered with the best money can buy," said Blaise.  "Some of us know the real value of money.  Some of us don't equate money with love."

"Some of us grew up with parents who knew how to control that alcohol intake, too."

"Leave him alone, Malfoy," said Harry.  He swept before Blaise and placed a hand, palm down, against Blaise's chest.  "He isn't worth it.  Let's just get this over with before we kill each other.  Maybe then we won't have to deal with him ever again."

Ron felt his temples pulsate in rhythm with his heart, which beat hard against his ribcage with a strength almost painful.  The corners of Draco's lips pulled down and tightened, his head angling toward the ground.  A faint pink blush crept into the apples of his cheeks and he jerked away when Ron's touch first fell upon him.

"Don't," said Ron.

"I know I didn't have the best upbringing.  Do they always have to remind me?"

"Harry's right.  Let's just get through this and then you won't ever have to use one tolerable word with them again."

"I want this to be over."

"Me, too."

"Where is this manor of yours?" said Blaise.

"We're getting close.  See that hill up ahead?"

"Yeah."

"There."

"Then let's pick up the pace.  My calves are killing me and I could use a nice cup of tea."

*

An overzealous, bouncy house elf opened the door followed by a man with a comb over in a black suit.  Short words passed between them, and the man sent the house elf to scurry away.

"Mr. Weasley," said the man, stepping aside.  A large entrance hall featuring candelabras and chandeliers came into view.  Bronze decals ornamented the furniture, doorways, and decorations.  Blue crushed velvet covered the chairs with a quality luxurious enough for a Malfoy to be proud of.

"I'm here to see my grandparents," said Ron, brushing by the man.  He didn't notice the way Harry gawked at him, or the smug grin that formed on Draco's lips at Ron's tone.  "Don't just stand there.  Announce me and be on with it."

"Yes, sir," said the man, giving a short bow.  He walked off down the corridor and turned out of sight.

"I'm starting to see where that prince thing comes into play," said Blaise.  "You certainly have no qualms about ordering servants around."

"It's his job.  How else am I supposed to treat him?"

"Just because we're servants doesn't mean you need to treat us like slaves," said Harry.

"I'm starting to see where that slave thing comes into play," said Draco.  "Someone's taking your comment personally.  Nice pronoun use, Potter.  Didn't know you considered yourself a servant."

"Technically, Hero Veriatice was a slave," said Blaise.

"Next thing we know, Potter's going to be crusading with Granger about house elf treatment, and expand to include servants of every kind."

Footsteps broke through their conversation -- the high clicking of heels tapping against stone.  Blaise pulled Harry away, and Harry glared at Draco with enough malice to stun one with a softer exterior.  The patter grew louder, like a light rain turning into a downpour, and a woman came into view.  Her deep auburn hair was tied in a complicated knot, which hung at the nape of her neck.  Freckles splashed over her pale cheeks, and her chin came to a squared angle.  Full, red lips puckered at the sight of the boys, and her cerulean robes battered against the ground as she joined them.

"Stewart said you were here," she said.  "Darling, is that a Malfoy in my home?"

"He's okay," said Ron.  "I wouldn't bring him here if he wasn't."

"Just what is this all about?"

"It's a long story, but I'd like to tell you it with Grandfather if that's possible."

"Of course."

Her puckered lips smoothed out and separated, revealing perfect, white teeth.  She wrapped an arm around Ron's and guided him in the direction from which she came.  Draco, Harry, and Blaise exchanged glances before following, keeping their distance.

Turning down a hallway, she walked to a dark oak door and rapped on it with her knuckles.  Long, bronze fingernails tapped against Ron's forearm as they waited.  Giving Ron another smile, she knocked a second time.

"Maddock, darling, Ron is here to see you."

"Doris, can't you see I'm busy?"

She rolled her eyes.

"I can't see anything, Maddock; I'm not in the room."

"Then come in."

Turning the knob, she opened the door causing light from the gas lamp to pour through the crack and illuminate the corridor.  Shadows scampered along the stone walls and flagstone floor.

"There, now.  Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Ron's here to see you."

"Who?"

"Ron.  Your grandson."

"Which one's Ron?"

"The one you like."

"Well, what are you waiting for?  Let the boy in!"

She motioned for Ron's entrance, glanced to the other boys, and then motioned for them to enter as well.  She gave Harry and Blaise warm smiles as they passed, but narrowed her eyes at Draco, and kept watch on him as he sat next to Ron on one of the plush sofas.

The study was spacious, much larger than the Gryffindor common room back at Hogwarts.  Portraits of various Weasleys through the years hung upon the walls, and Harry's eyes fell fast to one of a young version of Arthur Weasley, followed by two boys who must have been his brothers.  The names beneath were Richard and Dane.

"Would anyone like some tea?" she asked.

"Yes, please," said Ron.

"Tea all around, Doris," said Maddock.  "Now, Ron, what is it that you wanted?"

"Well -- er -- I'm here for a little research.  We all are."

"Research?" said Doris. "What for?"

"Who is we?" said Maddock.

"Ron and the rest of the boys, dear."

"Rest of the boys?"  Maddock looked away from Ron and around the room, almost jumping out of his seat to see Draco, Blaise, and Harry staring back at him.  Ron caught Harry's eye, shrugged, and gave him a weak smile.  "Where did you come from?"

"They came with me," said Ron.

"Doris, you said it was just Ron.  Which ones are you?"

"They aren't Weasleys, dear," said Doris.

"Who are you?"

"Er -- well -- I'm Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Nonsense!  Harry Potter's dead."

"Not Catherine's husband, dear," said Doris.  "The other one.  James's son.  The one who sent You-Know-Who away the first time."

"Nonsense!  That Harry Potter's only a lil' tyke."

Ron buried his face in his hands and said, "Here we go again."

"He was a baby sixteen years ago.  He's Ron's age."

"Which one's Ron?"

"I'm Ron," said Ron.  Maddock stared at him looked back to Doris.

"Don't you read the _Daily Prophet_?" said Doris.

"Course I do.  I do the crossword every day."

"Maddock, Harry's seventeen now.  He and Ron go to school together and Ron's the grandson you like."

"Why do I like him again?"

"Because he hasn't yet embarrassed the family name."

"He's Arthur's, then."

"Yes, Maddock."

"All right, then.  Thanks for that, Harry." 

Harry looked around, his eyes wide.  He leaned toward Ron and said, "I didn't say anything."

"He's thanking you for getting rid of You-Know-Who."

"Oh," said Harry.  "Voldemort isn't really dead."  Ron winced as did Doris, but Maddock didn't seem to notice.  "In fact, he's back.  That's why we're here.  For research on how to defeat him."

"Well I don't know how to defeat him.  If I did, he wouldn't be around anymore."

"No, Grandfather, you misunderstand.  You see, that's Blaise Zabini --"

"You a drunk, too?"

Blaise swallowed, his eyes growing wide.  "No, sir."

"And this is Draco Malfoy."

"Lucius's boy," said Doris.

"Isn't Lucius dead?" said Maddock.  "Saw that the other day when I got my _Prophet_.  I like to keep up with the news every now and then.  Long article about Hogwarts being under siege, too.  Suppose the Death Eaters finally got the right idea of where the Mages are."

"So did we," said Ron.  Maddock blinked and motioned for Doris to bring him his tea.

"Took you long enough.  So that's what you're really here about, is it?  About time you developed your power."

"You've known all this time?" said Ron.  "And you didn't tell me?"

"Had to be a Weasley, didn't it?  That's what the four manors were built for.  Don't they teach you anything at that school anymore?  Back in my day, anyone and everyone was looking for the Mages.  Knew everything there was to know.  When I taught, there wasn't a detail left out."

"We were taught in a rush," said Draco.  "Phoenix did what he could."

"Phoenix Malfoy?"

"He's teaching Pureblood Ancestry and Mythology," said Ron.  "They reinstated the class and Phoenix is our Professor, but because of the siege, we didn't have much time to learn the story or much about who we are.  I knew you had a lot of documentation back to the days of Cane Weasley and I thought, well, what better place to research."

"You thought?" said Draco.  Ron elbowed him below the ribs.

"Then you've come to the right place.  Let's have some tea and talk about this.  I'll tell you what I can, but my memory isn't as good as it used to be."

"You don't say," said Draco.  Grabbing at his chest, Harry started to cough, and Blaise looked between the two, holding back laughter.  Across the room, Ron caught his grandmother's eyes and shook his head, grinning.  She added sugar to a cup of tea, handed it to Ron, and mussed up his hair.

"We don't need you to tell us much," said Ron.  "I was hoping we could go through the library and your files.  We need to find everything we can about Absconditus, the building of the manors, and what Malfoy City has to do with it."

"Malfoy City?" said Blaise.

"Four hills, four manors, all sitting on the four corners of Malfoy City," said Ron, arching an eyebrow.  "Don't tell me you haven't connected that yet.  Even I got that far."

"Malfoy City," said Maddock, shaking his head.  "Gregorian Malfoy was the vainest little bugger to ever come from that line, Lucius and Antony included.  We've always called it Perdere, and that's how I'm going to refer to it.  Keep up if you don't want to get left behind."

"Then let's start there.  With Perdere."

"We'll start with the Slytherin split.  You know the story of Cane and Terence Slytherin, I assume."

"Yes," said Ron.  "Risika Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin had four children.  The oldest were twins named Cane and Terence.  Sick of being referred to as two of the Hogwarts babies, they disconnected themselves from the family and started their own lines."

"And built their manors," said Maddock.  "According to their surviving journals, Cane and Terence were followers of the Mage myth.  Alecto --"

"The oracle," said Harry.  Maddock nodded.

"Alecto prophesied that Mages would study at the greatest school of magic together as descendants of the founders and their own lines in a time where the future of magic was uncertain.  Up until then, there was no respectable school of magic.  Hogwarts was the first major school, and with its creation, Cane and Terence felt that it would relate to the prophecy.

"Cane was a Seer.  He foresaw the land that became Perdere and the four hills which stood upon the four major points of direction.  With the name change, Cane took the West Hill and Terence took the South.  In another vision, he saw the North and East Hills belonging to the Zabini and Gryffindor line to complete the circle of Mages.  Aeneas Gryffindor originated what became Potter Manor in the seventeenth century.  Cronus Zabini originated Zabini Manor.

"At the time, Perdere was still unclaimed land, and the brothers bought it.  They named it Perdere for 'The Lost City' in reference to Absconditus.  Many scholars believe the entrance to Absconditus is hidden under Hogwarts grounds, but I believe it's under Perdere.

"Cane's journal is in the library.  You'll want to take a look at it.  Has some valuable information."

"All in good time," said Doris.  "You four can hunt and scavenge around the library all day tomorrow, but I want you to get some sleep.  You look absolutely dreadful."

"Doris, let the boys do what they want."

"Maddock --"

"Actually, I am knackered," said Ron.

"So am I," said Draco.  "That trip was more than I could handle."

"Then we sleep tonight and get up early tomorrow to research.  Cane's journal should be a lot of help," said Harry.

"Thanks, Grandfather," said Ron.

"Any time," he said.  "Now you listen to Doris and get off to bed.  And if you have any questions tomorrow, just come and see me.  I can clarify some things for you or if you need help finding a book --"

"Don't worry.  We'll get you.  Goodnight."

"Good night."

Ron stood with the other three and followed Doris out of the study.

*

Maddock burst into the spare bedroom set up for Ron and Draco when any normal human being would be asleep.  This was what Ron liked to call Quidditch Time, as Harry was notorious for waking the entire Gryffindor team at hours like this when the sun was a longed-for novelty.  Luck shined on their side for a small part; Draco and Ron chose to sleep in separate beds the night before.  Some things were acceptable in the Weasley family, like associating with Muggle-borns, but any scandalous relations were to be kept behind closed doors.  Family doors weren't closed enough.

The sun shone on the horizon as the servant, Emma, set breakfast before them.

"Going to set right to work, are you?" said Maddock.

"We don't have much of a choice, do we?" said Harry.

"May as well," said Ron, glancing at Harry.  "We can't afford to waste any time.  There's loads to look up, and once we're done here we have to stop by at the Zabini, Potter, and Malfoy Manors."

"We're going to the Potter Manor?" said Harry.

"Of course we are.  We need a rounded research."

"Does anyone live there?"

"No one's lived there since your grandfather," said Doris.  "Too many strange things went on there for him, I think.  Moved out not long after James was born."

"Couldn't have a little furies tarnish his reputation is what it was," said Maddock Weasley.  "Harry was a vain little chorus girl.  Thought very highly of himself.  Didn't care who he had to step on to get to the top.  Once the furies started coming around Potter Manor, he moved right out.  I miss that man."

"Maddock, he tried to kill you," said Doris.

"I know, I know.  But what does it matter?  The past is the past.  Let bygones be bygones.  Toast?"

"No, thank you," said Harry.

"When did Harry's grandfather try to kill you?" said Draco.

"I'll tell you the story later," said Ron. 

"You knew?" said Harry. 

"Of course I knew.  He's very fond of the story." 

"Harry was like a brother to me," said Maddock. 

"See, Caleb Strauser was Minister of Magic at the time.  He was about to retire and my grandfather and yours were thought to be the best candidates to take over.  Your grandfather, in a desperate attempt to guarantee his success, sent my grandfather an illegal dragon egg on the verge of hatching by owl post." 

"Such a cute little thing.  I loved that dragon.  Shame the Ministry took it from me," said Maddock, peeling the crust off his toast and staring at an unknown point across the room. 

"It almost took your hand off," said Doris. 

"Yeah." 

Draco arched an eyebrow and looked to Ron.  He shrugged. 

"And just think," said Harry, "we have Fudge for minister now." 

"Fudge?" said Maddock. 

"Yes, dear," said Doris.  "Cornelius Fudge.  The Minister of Magic." 

"The boy who almost got a 'T' in my Pureblood Ancestry class?" 

"Yes, dear." 

"Who voted for that idiot?" 

"We need to get started on our research," said Draco.  He stood from the table and motioned toward the doorway with his head.  Doris nodded, brushing a strand of auburn hair out of her eyes and adjusting her robes. 

"If you need anything, boys, just let me know." 

"We will," said Ron.  Together they headed for the door, leaving Maddock behind and Doris to explain where and when Cornelius Fudge took office.

*

They sat in the library of the Manor.  Ladders scaled the walls of books and after deciding that this might take forever, they split up sections of the library.  Doris came by minutes ago with files of information and documents that Maddock thought would prove useful.  Draco kissed the folders; they were the notes and documents from his Pureblood Ancestry class.

Blaise flipped through documents dating back to Rilian Alcor, the great-grandfather of Ryan Alcor.  The papers were worn, yellowed, and bent at the edges, but magic sealed the fibers together and made the ink remain vibrant.   Next to Blaise, Harry helped weed through the piles of papers and decide what was useful and what wasn't.  Draco picked through the pile, looking through maps and sketches.

Sitting before Ron was a book bound in twine -- the journals of Cane Slytherin Weasley.  Magical enchantments kept the book whole like in the older documents.  Not all of the charms were complex; Ron remembered learning some of them last year when discussing magical doctrine and law in Charms.

"Ron," said Harry, "try to understand that I mean this in the best way possible, but your family is crazy."

"Why do you say so?"

"Just thinking of you grandfather at breakfast, and from these papers, I don't think he's the craziest of the lot."

"Probably not."

"So, explain something to me.  I'm looking through these ledgers, and you have this Manor here full of books, and furniture, and, well, you must have once had money, right?"

"We did come from the Slytherin line.  Malfoy and Weasley started as one."

"Right, so . . . what happened?"

Draco snorted, choking on his tea, and began laughing.  Ron glared at him and tapped his fingers against the table top.

"It isn't funny!"

"I'm sorry, Ron.  You're right.  It's not."

"What's not funny?" said Harry.

"What happened to the Weasleys' money."

"Am I prying?"

"No," said Ron, "it's just . . . it's all the damned Malfoys' faults.  Sometimes I wonder if my father only hates yours because he's an insolent and irritating pretty boy or if he's feeling the inbred Weasley wrath."

"Probably that one," said Draco.

"The Malfoys and Weasleys used to have a strong alliance," said Blaise.  "They come from the same line.  Only now do the Weasleys say that they put too much faith into the Malfoys.  Sometime in the fifteenth century the Weasleys went into a business deal with the Malfoys and ended up filing bankruptcy --"

"In an attempt to get more money," said Draco, laughing.  "The Malfoys remained untouched by the 'business deal.'  It was a con."

"Yeah, and once our family lost its money and its merit, the Malfoys stole all the money that was invested and left us broke.  The only reason we kept the Manor was because it's privately owned and there were no outstanding debts."

"It's really quite funny when you think about it," said Draco.

"So," said Harry, "you mean that a large sum of the money the Malfoys have belongs to the Weasleys?"

"Something like that.  There's a reason the Malfoys focus on the Weasleys' poverty so much.  Not that the Malfoys have any money anymore.  We lost most of it when Father went to Azkaban.  I'm just as poor as you lot now."

"Wait . . ." said Ron, pulling the journal closer to him.  "Look at this."

Draco peered over his shoulder while Blaise and Harry stretched over the table.

"I can't see," said Blaise.

"Neither can I," said Harry.

"What is that?" said Draco.

"According to Cane's captions, it's a map of the dungeons below the Manor."

"What's the big deal?  Malfoy Manor has dungeons and a map, too."

"But look at this.  There's an alcove over here," said Ron, pointing.  "Cane marks that they built into a magical barrier that couldn't be passed.  They tried to build around it and found a vault door.  It's marked right at that alcove.  See?  That can't be normal."

"Wait . . . Malfoy Manor has one of these, too.  I've seen it.  There's a weird crest on it, too.  Father told me to stay away from it."

"Cane mentions the one at Malfoy Manor.  See."

Draco took the book from Ron and followed to where he pointed.

_Terence and I explored what are to be our dungeons again today.  The contractors tried to break through the door but were thrown off by a magical seal.  Another has been found beneath Terence's Manor.  We've suggested Aeneas and Cronus search beneath their Manors as well.  They do not care the way Terence and I do.  We think this could be the way in._

_I had another vision yesterday of the vault door opening.  There was something scrawled on the door in red.  I think it was blood.  Terence tells me I'm being morbid, but I know there's something strange about it.  We've searched for Absconditus and Seeing led me here.  We're so close._

"And look," said Ron.  He flipped the page and tucked in against the binding was a folded piece of parchment.  Blurred lines of ink smeared by hurried hands shone at them.

"What is it?" said Blaise.  Harry glanced up from the journal, which he had turned around, and now looked at the map with Cane's accompanying entry.

Cane's handwriting as deciphered on the parchment read:

_Found written documentation of Alecto's Prophecy of the Four Mages.  Said, 'Only their blood in a new life will unseal the city.'  Same blood as blood on vault door?_

"Now we're getting somewhere," said Draco, passing it to Blaise.

"We don't need to do anything else then, do we?" said Harry.  "We know where this vault door is.  We have a map.  All we need is Ron's blood.  He was Ryan Alcor.  That should get us in."

"What do we do once we're down there, though?" said Ron.  "We still don't know how to work the fountain.  I say we stick with the original plan.  When that's finished, then we can try the vault door."

"What if we don't find anything?" said Blaise.

"Try the vault door anyway," said Harry.

"Hey, guys," said Blaise.  His fingers were shaking as he bent down, taking something between his fingers.  "I think I found something that may be useful."

Spreading the parchment out on the paper, Ron saw the lines scrawled over it in a familiar handwriting.  Instead of a perfect rectangle, two of the edges were frayed as if torn from the rest of the parchment.  It held a sort of diamond shape, the frayed sides stretching to an elongated triangle point.  Flipping it over, Blaise showed them Cane's note on the back. 

_Tucked in the creases of my vault door.__  Terence found another piece tucked into the creases of his vault door.  Aeneas and Cronus also found pieces.  They form some kind of map.  Could this be Absconditus?_

"That's -- er -- very interesting," said Draco. 

Ron flipped the parchment over and stared at the map piece. 

"That's my handwriting," said Ron. 

Harry stared, and then ripped a spare piece of parchment off his notes, flipped it over, passing it to Ron. 

"Write something.  Write your name." 

"Which one?" 

"Ryan." 

Picking up his quill and dipping it into the inkwell, Ron touched the tip to the parchment and scrawled out, 'Ryan Alcor.'

"It is his handwriting," breathed Blaise, staring between the two pieces.  Draco snatched the pieces, moved into the direct light of a gas lamp and compared. 

"Does anyone feel like this became more real?" said Harry.  Blaise licked his lips and nodded. 

"It's a perfect match," said Draco.  "I can't see a single difference." 

"Now we're getting somewhere," said Ron. 


	16. Gemma and the Furies

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Email: andromedanprincess@hotmail.com**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein Ryan makes a map, Draco's got a fan club, Blaise doesn't smoke, and Harry meets his "family."**

**Disclaimer:  I used all my wit on chapter fifteen.  Not JK.  If you can't tell the difference, read Prisoner of Azkaban again.  Why Azkaban?  Because it's the one I love best.**

****

**_Chapter Sixteen:  Gemma and the Furies_**

After yesterday's research Doris sat Maddock and the boys down for dinner.  Ron kept their findings somewhat of a secret as they sat around they table; he didn't want anyone but the Mages knowing of the similarity between his and Ryan Alcor's handwriting.  They instead discussed Cane Weasley's journal and the piece of the map.

As far as Maddock could tell them, there was no proof that the pieces of the map made up Absconditus.  They were found and put together in the eleventh century, but as no one possessed the blood of the Mages until now, no one could get into the city.

"Blood," said Ron.  "Do you think they mean actual blood?  Not metaphorical in any sense?"

"Feeling queasy?" asked Blaise, smirking.

"It's your blood, too, you know," said Ron.

Maddock explained that the exact wording of the Prophecy suggested the theory of blood to enter into the city.  When Absconditus collapsed, the city sealed itself, and the vault doors appeared, or at least that was the theory in use by the Mages' descendants.  No one knew for sure.  All they knew was Absconditus no longer existed, but had existed at one time.  Four vault doors all similar in size, shape, and design led to an area of magic proven to be unbreakable over the course of sixteen-hundred years.

Ron crawled beneath the covers that night, spread his limbs out, and stretched.  He rolled over.  Pulling the covers up to his chin, Ron tried to trap his body beneath the shield.  Through the dark, he looked to the other side of the room.  Moonlight filtered in through the window creating thin lines toward the end of Draco's bed and running onto the wall behind it.  A lump sat in Draco's direction, and Ron propped his head up on his elbow.

"Can't sleep?"

"How did you know I was awake?" said Draco.

"Intuition.  And your breathing pattern is off.  What's on your mind?"

"Absconditus.  Same as every other night."  Draco shifted beneath the covers, rolling over to face Ron.  In the dark, all Ron saw were shades of grey shifting across the planes of Draco's features.  "Why aren't you asleep?" 

"My bed feels too empty." 

"Slept fine last night." 

"I was asleep before I laid down last night.  I don't even remember climbing into bed." 

"Me, either." 

"Come lay with me?" 

"What about your grandparents?" 

"I'm a Mage.  If they have a problem, they can deal with it." 

Ron watched a large part of the lump shift beneath the moon rays.  Long limbs stretched out from their prison and Draco crawled out of bed.  Pulling back his own blankets, Ron shoved over.  As Draco sank onto the bed, Ron caught him around the waist and pinned him to the mattress.  Leaning over, Ron pressed his lips to Draco's and ran his tongue along the fullness of Draco's bottom lip. 

"You're beautiful," said Ron. 

"You're crazy," said Draco. 

Shifting to his side, Ron spooned behind Draco, and pulled the blankets to mid-chest.  He placed his palm flat against Draco's stomach, thumb scraping along the slight definition of his muscle.  In fact, despite how slender he looked or how much Quidditch he played, Draco's body was a tad plushier than Ron would have guessed.  Rubbing his hand down the skin to Draco's hips, Ron curled his fingers around Draco's hipbone and placed a kiss to Draco's shoulder. 

"What's happening to us?" asked Draco. 

"What do you mean?" 

"As often as I go over it, this isn't me.  This isn't you.  I don't know who we are anymore.  I lost my nasty streak." 

"I wouldn't say you lost it.  You channel it.  For instance, you can't spend more than two minutes in a room with Harry without attacking him for something.  You're making up for not being able to harass me." 

"I'm too busy getting you worked up in other ways to insult you," said Draco. 

"I know what you mean, though," said Ron.  "I don't know what's happening but I feel powerless to stop it.  I've never really believed in fate." 

"Me either." 

"Looks like we were wrong." 

"Tell me about it.  Our entire existence is deemed by fate.  At least if you believe all this Mage business." 

"You mean that maybe you don't?" 

"Oh, I believe it, all right.  Every last word.  I don't want to, but I have all these memories, and I'm not very good at lying to myself anymore.  It didn't get me anywhere good." 

Ron nuzzled his nose into the dip behind Draco's ear, snaked his tongue out, and licked the skin.  Covering the wet spot with a kiss, Ron trailed across the back of Draco's neck.  The fine hairs on Draco's skin tickled Ron's lips and he placed a final kiss at the nape before pulling back.  The hand wrapped around Draco's hipbone fell away and snuck under the waistband of Draco's pants. 

"Who said you could touch me?" said Draco. 

"Since when do I need permission?" 

Ron kissed Draco's cheek and felt a smile tugging at Draco's lips.  Hooking his thumb into the band, Ron tugged the pants lower to expose the right hip bone and even further until the top of Draco's thigh was visible over the material.  He dug his fingers into the space where the hip and thigh meet, causing Draco to squirm and throw his head back on Ron's shoulder. 

"Gods, Ryan . . ." 

Ron ripped his hand from Draco's thigh as if burned.  In the low light of the room, Ron saw the outline of his hand, shaking, as it hovered above Draco's legs.  Draco angled his head to meet Ron's lips. 

"What?  What's wrong?" 

"What did you just call me?" 

" . . . Ron?" 

"You called me Ryan." 

"No, I didn't." 

"Yes, you did." 

"I couldn't have.  You must have misheard." 

"Draco, what's happening to us?" 

For a moment, Draco didn't answer.  He shifted further back into Ron, tilting his head to fit against the crook of Ron's neck.  Light breath fluttered over Ron's skin and made him squirm.  Wrapping his arms around Draco's waist, Ron tangled their legs and pressed into Draco. 

"I don't know," said Draco, "but it feels right, and I don't think it's supposed to." 

*

"Do you know what you're doing?" 

"Of course I know what I'm doing," said Ron.  He glanced back to the ledger, dipped his quill into the ink, and referred back to the parchment before him. 

"Why are we doing this again?" 

"Because Alecto said we need a point of reference to remember the city.  Its purpose is to spark memory." 

A piece of blond hair hung in Ron's eyes.  He swatted it away, smearing ink on his forehead. 

"You're a mess." 

"Bade . . ." 

"Ryan." 

"You drew the south road backward."  Ron sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.  Bade winced, scrunching his nose and looking at the disheveled, inky hair.  "Ryan, love, maybe you should give it a rest.  You look a fright." 

"Just get me another piece of parchment, all right?" 

Bade nodded, leaving the bedroom.  Ron glanced to the candle, which sat on the top of the desk.  It was growing low, wax trickling down the side.  When the door reopened, Ron didn't notice until a fresh piece of parchment spread out before him.  As he dipped his quill into the inkwell, a chair scraped across the floor, and Bade's fingers sunk into his hair, massaging at his scalp. 

"I love you," said Ron. 

"I know," said Bade.  "I love you, too . . . You should see yourself.  Your hair's getting as dark as mine." 

"I'm worried, Bade.  I don't understand what's going on." 

"I know you're worried, love, but Alecto isn't the only one who can foresee what is to come.  We don't know that this is even necessary." 

"I know.  You're right.  Alecto isn't the only one who can foresee.  Something bad is coming.  We need to be prepared." 

"For what?  Alecto has you all worked up over some arrest that you know nothing about and may not even happen.  She saw us in prison.  She saw us reborn in the future.  What does that prove?  Nothing!  How often are Seers actually correct, no offense.  You're fine.  I'm fine.  Your father and brother are fine.  My mother --"

"Bade!" said Ron, his quill falling from his fingers and against the cold, stone floor.  Ron raked his fingers through his hair and took one of Bade's hands over his shoulder. 

"You're really worried." 

"How could you tell?" 

Bade smiled and leaned forward, placing a kiss on Ron's temple.  Reaching beyond Ron, he pointed to a place on the parchment by the palace on the map.  "There.   That's where the North road runs." 

"Have I told you I love you?" 

"Once or twice.  What do we do with this when it's finished?" 

"Divide the map, have Alecto charm them, and bury them somewhere near our birthplace." 

"Does that involve actual digging?" 

"A bit." 

"Ryan, how are you going to handle it?" 

"I'm not incompetent." 

"No one said you were." 

Bade rested his head on Ryan's shoulder, grinning like a small boy.  Arching an eyebrow, Ryan pulled back to survey Bade.  He shook his head, ran his fingers through Bade's satin black hair, and brushed a thumb along Bade's chin. 

"You're beautiful." 

"You're crazy." 

The boys jumped at a sharp knock, and Bade sat a reasonable distance from Ron before the doorknob began to turn.  Inching farther, a boy of Ron's similar height and build stepped into the room.  He surveyed the area, frowned, and smoothed out the front of his jerkin. 

"What _are_ you doing?" 

"What do you want, Starvos?" 

Looking to Bade, a sneer curled Starvos's lips. 

"Father wants you asleep soon.  We have a gathering tomorrow and you can't be falling asleep." 

"Thank you, Starvos." 

"Ryan . . . What is in your hair?" 

"Ink." 

For a moment, Starvos's face twisted in horror. 

"Call Ana to have it washed out.  You can't appear in public like that." 

"I know, Starvos.  Good night." 

Making an incoherent, disgusted sound, Starvos gave Bade one last look and disappeared from the room.  Once gone, Bade gagged, and drew his chair back to Ron's side.  Draping his arms around Ron's shoulders, Bade pressed his cheek against Ron's. 

"It's amazing how fabulous you are when your brother is so revolting." 

"We ought to get to bed." 

"Want me to join you?" 

"It's not a question of whether or not I want you to join me.  I want you to, but it isn't a good idea.  Ana will be here early and I do need to get this ink out of my hair." 

"All right, but do me a favor before I go." 

"What?" 

"Promise not to call her Ana." 

Bade stood from his chair and walked around the corner, heading for the far end of the room.  He passed the double doors and instead walked to a portrait of Rilian Alcor.  Pushing a small button next to the portrait, Bade watched as the portrait swung open, revealing a door.  As he turned the handle, he paused and looked to Ron. 

"Promise.  It is not her fault of her position in life, and she is your friend.  Call her by her proper name.  No one has to hear you, but do it when it's just the two of us." 

"I would, but . . . I feel so terrible." 

"Don't fool yourself using a pseudonym.  It's Hero no matter what you call her." 

"I know.  I promise." 

"Good.  I'll see you in the morning." 

"Pleasant dreams." 

"I'm sure they will be." 

Giving Ron a final smile, Bade pulled the door shut behind him.  The portrait swung back and clicked into place. 

*

Ron hiked his bag higher on his shoulder and shook his head as if to clear all the debris that settled there.  He looked past Draco to the busy streets.  People gawked at Draco, whispered and pointed, but Draco didn't seem to notice. 

"Got a fan club, Malfoy?" said Harry. 

"This is what happens when a Malfoy walks through Malfoy City," said Draco.  "It's best to pretend it isn't happening.  You don't want to encourage them." 

"What are we going to my Manor for?" said Blaise. 

"To find your piece of the map.  That's all we really need.  Everything else we've found in Cane's journal," said Draco.  "I would like to head to Town Hall once we've got Zabini's and Potter's pieces.  I'd like more information about the city.  Besides, that's where my father sent documents that he didn't want me to happen upon.  Chances are Mother would know about them.  Anything really important with the prophecy will be there." 

"Ron, you okay?" said Harry. 

Shaking his head again, Ron looked to Harry, trying to make sense of him. 

"What?" 

"I asked if you were okay.  Seems bit of a stupid question." 

"Oh.  Yeah.  I'm fine." 

"You don't look fine." 

"Ron, what is it?" said Draco.  He moved closer to Ron and wrapped his arm around Ron's waist.  Resting his head against Ron's shoulder, he grinned upon feeling Ron's own arm encircle his waist.  Harry grimaced, looking away. 

"Nothing, really.  Just some stupid dream." 

"Just some stupid Seer dream?" said Draco.  "You know you're supposed to tell us about them?  Was it a vision?" 

"It was the past," said Ron.  "As Ryan." 

"And?" 

"I dreamed we were making the map.  It wasn't just a dream, though.  Now that I've Seen it, I remember it." 

"Why did we make it?  Is it of Absconditus?" 

"It's of Absconditus.  I remember I went to see Alecto because my Intuition told me something bad was coming.  She agreed.  Saw us in prison and reborn in the future.  Said the prophecy to me for the first time.  I think -- I think that's why it affects me so much more than the rest of you.  I heard the prophecy before she repeated it at our trial. 

"The map was to spark memory.  So that we'd remember our way when the time came to go back." 

"So much for that," said Blaise.  "We're remembering everything without the bloody map anyway." 

"Right, but Alecto wanted us to make it.  That's why it's in my handwriting.  I drew it." 

"Over a thousand years ago at that," said Harry.  "Freaky." 

"No, what's freaky is how everyone keeps staring at us," said Blaise.  "Would you get your hand off Ron's arse?  It's bad enough people are staring at you because you're a Malfoy, but now you're a Malfoy with his hand on a boy's arse." 

"I know," said Harry.  "They're staring at him like he's some kind of God." 

"It is Malfoy City, and I am a Malfoy.  Put the two together." 

"Does anyone else find that funny?" said Blaise.  "Malfoy City?  You're never going to hear the end of it." 

"Don't you mean Perdere?" said Ron. 

"No, I mean Malfoy City.  Perdere isn't funny." 

"Because Malfoy City is," said Draco. 

"Yes."  Harry nodded. 

"Am I going to have to put up with this the entire time we're here?" 

"Yes."  Harry nodded. 

"Fine.  It isn't like I can stop you." 

"Good of you to realize," said Harry. 

Ron shook his head and captured Draco's waist. 

"How are you feeling?" said Ron. 

"Better," said Draco. 

"I've been worried." 

"You're always worried." 

"We should get you to bed early tonight." 

"I don't need to be mothered." 

"But you've been sick." 

"I'll deal with it." 

A hill on the north end of Malfoy City led to Zabini Manor.  As they walked, poor, ramshackle sheds replaced the fine shops, homes, and schools.  Draco mentioned the poor side of town, grimaced, and glared at a little girl in rags digging through the dirt.  Her big, protruding eyes stared out from beneath her curtain of scraggly hair.  Nudging Draco in the side, Ron frowned. 

"Leave her alone.  It's not her fault." 

Ron looked over but the little girl was gone. 

They reached the base of the hill and began to climb.  Unlike Weasley Manor, the inclination was steep, and their faces were covered in sweat when they reached the top despite the November air nipping at their skin.  Blaise looked to the others and Draco ushered him on.  Approaching the door, Blaise lifted the heavy knocker and held it out.  He hesitated, and Draco reached out to grab Blaise's side.  Blaise shrieked and dropped the knocker, causing a loud, heavy clang. 

"What was that for?" said Blaise. 

"Call it a nudge in the right direction." 

"It hurt." 

"Good." 

The large, oak doors swung open.  A woman clad in emerald green robes stood before them, her long black hair cascading down her back.  She looked from Blaise to Harry, Draco, and Ron, and then nodded. 

"I thought you might show up here." 

"Hello, Grandmother," said Blaise.  "We're --"

"I know what you're here for.  Come in before anything looks suspicious.  It'll be all over town by tomorrow morning, Draco Malfoy walking through Malfoy City.  What were you boys thinking?" 

She ushered them inside, the entrance hall similar to that of Weasley Manor.  An adjacent corridor trailed off to the right, and she pulled Blaise in that direction.  The other boys followed.  After interweaving through the hallways, they came to a drawing room where a man already sat.  Large smoke rings puffed from the pipe that hung between his lips. 

"Blaise, son, come in," said the man.  He motioned with his arm, the sleeves of his large black robes swishing.  "Have a seat.  Cigar?" 

"He doesn't smoke," said the woman.  "Boys, please take a seat.  Tea?" 

"I'm fine, thanks," said Blaise. 

"Me, too," said Harry. 

"None for me," said Draco. 

Ron shook his head. 

"All right, then, let's get down to business.  You know, ever since I saw the articles in the paper I've been waiting for you.  Thomas and I always thought it might be you, Blaise.  You're Isaiah's only child to have any direction.  I'm Gemma, by the way." 

"I'm --" said Ron. 

"I know who you are.  Suppose you're looking for our piece of the map.  You won't find much else here.  Maddock has what you're really looking for." 

"How do you --" said Blaise. 

"Know?  Goodness, child, just because Isaiah is my son doesn't mean he inherited his inebriated state.  You think there's a living Zabini who doesn't know we're fated to bear a Mage?" 

"I didn't know." 

"That's because your mother failed to tell you why you grew up with Absconditus as your bedtime story.  Ever since this place was built the story's been passed down.  It's quite an honor for our family, of course.  It's the only thing we can be proud of." 

"Everyone seems to know," said Ron.  "About us being the Mages.  Why don't other people know?" 

"The story's largely myth, isn't it?  Except to those who come from the founding families.  We have proof to back it up, not that we'd share.  Not with people crazy to get their hands on documentation like that." 

"Anyone who knows about the myth thinks you're one of them, Potter," said Thomas, coughing.  He took the pipe from his mouth, letting it dangle from his fingers.  "We knew for certain.  And Blaise, you're the only one who hasn't embarrassed us yet.  Let's keep it that way." 

"Have you been to see Maddock, yet?" said Gemma. 

"We just came from there," said Ron. 

"You have the first piece of the map?" 

"We found it in Cane Weasley's journal." 

"Good.  That's more than we can ever give you.  The Zabini line never documented much of anything.  From Cane's journals, we know that Cronus Zabini was far too self-involved to worry about documentation.  He built this manor for his own benefit.  Improved his standing, being an ancestor of a future Mage." 

"I'll take you to the library if you'd like but there isn't much there," said Thomas.  "Anything you could find there you've probably already got from the Weasley Manor.  And if Maddock doesn't have it, Lucius will, and I'm sure you can find your way around there, Draco." 

"Malfoy Manor isn't the problem," said Draco.  "We've got more than enough.  The only other thing we need is the wording of the prophecy.  And the map.  But you've said you can help us out on that one." 

"Aye," said Thomas.  "We can.  Potter Manor is going to be where you have problems." 

"I had that feeling," said Harry. 

"You aren't the only one," said Draco. 

Thomas nodded, placing the pipe between his lips again.  He stood from his chair and motioned for the others to follow.  Gemma watched as they disappeared.  She was out of sight, and they wound through tangled corridors again. 

The library of Zabini Manor was smaller than that in Weasley Manor.  Books climbed to the ceiling, but the Zabini library was only a small fraction -- maybe a fourth -- as large as Weasley Manor.  One long cedar table stood in the center opposed to the five than spanned the Weasley library.  Thomas left them at the door, pulled a small, leather book from one of the shelves, and extracted a sheet of parchment.  Holding a monocle to his eye, he scanned the paper and nodded. 

"This is the map of the dungeons.  The piece of your map should be somewhere along the crevices of the vault door." 

"Like mine was before Cane removed it," said Ron.  Draco nodded. 

"Explore as much as you'd like," said Thomas. 

"Thanks, Grandfather," said Blaise.  He took the map from Thomas, rolled it into his palm, and turned to Harry.  "Suppose this means we have an adventure ahead of us." 

"This whole bloody ordeal has been an adventure," said Draco, running his fingers through his hair.  "I'll be happy when it's all over and I can get away from you lot.  I want to be normal again." 

"Wishful thinking, Malfoy.  You were never normal." 

"Funny, Potter.  The more you talk, the more I'm starting to see Hero Veriatice in you." 

"And the more you talk, the more I'm starting to see why the kingdom disliked you so much." 

"They don't know how to exercise tolerance very long," said Ron.  Grabbing Draco by the wrist, he pulled him toward the door. 

"Then you'd better get moving," said Thomas.  "Don't let me keep you back."  He smiled to Blaise, touched him on the shoulder, and left the room. 

"That was the warmest I think my grandparents have ever been." 

"They're very interesting," said Harry. 

Blaise sighed, wrapping his arm around Harry's waist and pulling him closer. 

"Shall we head for the dungeons?"

*

Moss covered the stairwell walls and crawled along the steps as they descended into the dungeons.  Mice scampered along a floor down below in the darkness.  With each step, light faded farther away, and Harry muttered a Lumos spell.  The faith light that glowed from the end of his wand did little to pacify the darkness.  Ron felt Draco's hand creep into his own, grip almost painful. 

"Didn't anyone think of lighting the way?" said Draco. 

"Who was going to come down here?" said Blaise.  He pulled out his wand and said the Lumos spell.  "Want to give us a hand?" 

"Can't," said Draco.  "Mine are occupied." 

"I don't even want to know." 

"You're right.  You don't." 

"It isn't like that," said Ron, pulling out his wand.  "_Lumos_.  Harry, you do know where we are, right?" 

"Of course I do.  I think." 

"You think?" said Draco.  "That doesn't sound assured." 

"I'll find it."  A loud bang resonated, echoing off the walls and into black.  "Watch out.  That last step's a killer." 

Ron found the level ground and groped for Harry's hand.  He closed around flesh, hoping it was Harry, and tried to provide a steady hand as he hoisted Harry to his feet. 

"Thanks for that, mate." 

"Don't mention it." 

"Which way?" 

"Er -- right.  I think," said Blaise, who found the map in the dark. 

"It's left," said Ron.  He felt more than saw the others look to him. 

"How do you know?" said Harry as Blaise said, "No, I'm sure it's right." 

"It's left," said Ron.  "Look closer." 

"Well?" said Draco. 

"It's left.  I was reading the paths wrong.  How did you --"

"He's a bloody freak is how," said Draco. 

"I must've had a vision," said Ron.  "I don't remember." 

"You're starting to creep me out," said Harry. 

"Starting?" said Draco. 

Blaise pointed his wand to the map and moved to the left.  Ron grabbed Draco by the sleeve and dragged him along.  Burying his face into his shoulder, Draco coughed into the material and rubbed at his eyes. 

"I thought you were feeling better," said Harry. 

"I'll be all right." 

Blaise moved his wand from the parchment and waved it around the corridor.  "It should be somewhere around here." 

Turning around, Ron squinted, trying to make sense of his surroundings.  Mildew climbed along the walls like a bad dream (or vision).  The air was bitter, acrid in his nose and mouth.  Faint droplets of water plopped in the distance.  Moving to the closest wall, Ron ran his fingers over the bumpy rock as he tried to ignore the slimy fungus that coated his fingertips. 

The mucky surface changed to a coarse metal.  Bits flecked onto his skin and crumbled beneath his touch.  Ron stepped closer, examining the edges, and came upon what looked to be a circle, engraved into the metal.  A second circle sat inside the first, and inside the second circle was a six-point star. 

"I found something," said Ron.  Blaise, Harry, and Draco rushed over, Draco pushing in front of Harry to stand by Ron's side.  Ron pulled Blaise next to him and shined his wand over the crest.  "What do you think?" 

"I think you found the vault door," said Blaise.  Reaching out, he ran his fingers over the surface.  "That was my symbol.  We all had one.  Personal symbols Alecto had us make in prison before we were condemned." 

"I didn't want to believe," said Draco.  "I remember that, now.  I didn't want to make a symbol because I didn't want to believe that I had to die.  Not that I've changed much.  I still don't want to." 

"Alecto wanted to bind our souls long before we were ever accused," said Ron.  "I refused.  It wasn't until I was dying and the city was collapsing that we were bound." 

"And you're the only one foraging ahead now," said Blaise.  "I'd just as soon give up." 

"I realize that I don't have a choice." 

"There's always a choice," said Draco. 

"But there's only one right choice." 

"I adore you." 

"I know you do." 

Blaise squeezed Ron's shoulder, not noticing the glare Draco gave him in doing so.  He approached the vault door, fingering the engraving.  His fingers ran over the metal and dipped into the carving of the six-point star.  Tracing the star, starting at the top point and moving counterclockwise, he stopped at the bottom point.  Following it over the circles, he ran along the crevice between door and wall.  Wedging his fingers in, Blaise forced out a piece of parchment. 

"Is it the map?" said Harry. 

"Just a second, love," said Blaise.  Standing to full height, Blaise unfolded the parchment and held the tip of his wand to it.  "Ron, where's your piece?" 

Ron fished around in his pockets and pulled out the first piece from inside his robes.  Smoothing it out, he walked to Blaise's side and held it up.  With the smooth edges of Ron's piece forming the bottom left corner, the torn top edge fit next to Blaise's.  The left half of the map was complete. 

"It's my piece," said Blaise. 

"He's got everything on his, too," said Ron.  "You know that building on mine?  The one that's top was cut off?" 

"Yes," said Draco. 

"It's the palace.  Look, Blaise's got the fountain, the other half of the palace . . . he's even got the prison." 

Ron stared at his own handwriting which labeled the map.  The bottom part of Blaise's piece extended past Ron's, and in the farthest corner was the fountain.  Just as the stories told, it sat in the middle of the city.  A market area surrounded the fountain, and the map showed two roads running off from it.  One led to the palace; the other led to the prison.  Even the execution dais was labeled on Blaise's piece.  The letters that labeled it were shaky and uncertain, and Ron felt his insides twist as he stared. 

"How do you know?" said Harry.

"What do you mean?  It's all here on the map.  Look.  I've labeled it all."

"It's all in Latin," said Draco, taking the map.  "I didn't know you knew Latin."

"I don't," said Ron, grabbing the map.  He felt his jaw drop, looking at the foreign words that had seemed clear moments ago.  "But . . ."

"I don't know why we're surprised anymore when you show some strange insight."

"But I could read this.  I know what it says.  This is the prison.  This is the palace.  I know it is."

"I don't doubt it.  Come on.  We have two more pieces of the map to find." 

*

Ron was numb as they walked to Potter Manor.  Holding the two map pieces together, Ron stared at the words.  He didn't notice the walk through Malfoy City, nor the climb of the east hill.  Potter Manor loomed before them looking dark and foreboding before he had time to register the movement of his legs.  Ron stared at the shutters with gaping holes that hung off of the windows by single hinges.  The steps squeaked as they mounted the porch, and Blaise didn't bother to knock.  He threw his weight into the door, which squealed as it opened in protest. 

The foyer was spotless.  There was no furniture, but it was immaculate.  A staircase ornamented in gold with scarlet carpeting stood to one side, and a balcony at the top looked down upon them.

"House elves?" said Ron.

"What else?" said Draco.  "Those things breed like rabbits.  Probably thousands of them living here, going crazy with no one to give them orders.  Keep the place spotless in hopes someone will come along and play master."

"Sounds kinky," said Blaise.  Harry frowned, elbowing him in the ribs.  "That was not.  Honestly, Harry -- that hurt.  I think I broke a rib."

"You'll live."

"Did you hear that?" said Draco. 

"Hear what?" said Blaise.  "I didn't hear anything."

"I guess you wouldn't with the way you've been running your mouth.  I thought I heard something."

"Maybe it was in your imagination."

"Maybe if you shut up, you'd hear it, too."

"I didn't hear anything, either, Malfoy," said Harry.  "I think you've gone para --"

A loud bang echoed from the corridor across from the doors.  Draco arched an eyebrow, his hands on his hips, and glared at Harry.

"Paranoid, were you going to say?"

"It's probably the house elves," said Harry.  "Something's got to be cleaning this place, right?  Come on.  Let's go have a look."

"A look?" said Draco.  "Are you crazy?"

Harry ignored him, walking in the direction of the noise.  Blaise followed after and Draco looked to Ron.

"I'm not letting them go alone," said Ron.  He shrugged and headed in the same direction.

"Don't leave me," said Draco.

"Then come on."

Groaning, Draco followed as if walking to a Blast-Ended Skrewt.  Every so often, Draco turned around and longed for the door.  The way it got farther away with each step depressed him.  When Harry found the door separating them from all the noise, he turned the knob and flung it open.  Inside was a large kitchen, steam filling the room, and several dozen house elves milled around.  A high buzz filtered into their ears, a by-product of simultaneous house elf chatter.

"What should we do?" said Blaise.

"We should leave them alone, find my map, and get out of here," said Harry.

"Good idea," said Draco.

Ron turned around to open the kitchen door when a shriek derailed his attention.

"Harry Potter, sir!" cried one of the house elves.  The rest began to chirp it as a mantra.

It was almost comical watching the house elves look to Harry, begin to say his name, and then migrate over to where he stood.  Draco stepped back, trying not to laugh as the house elves mauled Harry.  They all spoke at one time and Harry's gaze dodged from house elf to house elf, not grasping what any said.

"How do they all know who I am?" said Harry.

"Maybe they know Dobby," said Ron.

"Dobby?" said Draco.  "What's my old house elf got to do with anything?"

"Not the time right now."

"Maybe it's because your grandfather lived here.  His name was Harry Potter, too, remember?" said Blaise.

"Harry Potter, sir, has come back to the house elves," said one, bouncing by Harry's left knee.  The others nodded, repeating what he said.

"Does anyone else wish they could use the killing curse on all those house elves right now?" said Draco.  Ron smacked his arm just above the elbow, stinging his own skin.   Wincing, Draco rubbed at the red imprint.

"Why did Harry Potter leave the house elves, Harry Potter, sir?" said another.

"What is going on in there?" bellowed a sharp, feminine voice.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the corridor, coming to a din before the kitchen door flew open and banged against the wall.  The house elves fell silent, retreating to a darkened corner.  The door rebounded with inertia, it flew back at the intruder, and a grayish-green hand caught it.  The skin appeared water-logged and the dark green veins that ran through the body shined.  Snakes writhed and snapped atop her head, and she stared through those water-logged eyelids with obsidian eyes.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Draco whimpered and backed behind Ron.

"Who are you?" said Harry.

"Electra.  I live here.  Mind telling me what you're doing in my home?"

"She's a fury," said Draco.

"Actually, I'm one of the Erinyes," said Electra.

"It's the same thing."

"The furies were my ancestors.  And you are?"

"Er -- You talk to her, Potter.  She's _your_ family."

"Family?" said Electra.  She crossed her arms over her chest, the silky toga that hung from her shoulders bunching around her neckline.

"I'm Harry.  Harry Potter.  I -- er --"

"This is his Manor," said Blaise.  "He has more of a right to be here than you do."

"Don't say that," said Draco.

Electra took no notice of Draco, her eyes barely brushing over him as she surveyed their group.  At last, she dropped her arms to her sides and her fingers relaxed out of fists.

"Potter, did you say?"

"That's right," said Blaise.  "Harry Potter.  His father was James Potter, and _his_ father was Harry Potter, senior.  That makes him the heir to this Manor."

"No need to get so excited," said Electra.  A hint of a smile twisted on those horrible, green lips.  "What is your business here?  Surely you didn't mean to move in.  I see no indication of it."

"No, not at all.  I'm here . . . well, we're here because we're looking for something.  A piece of a map.  It's supposed to be here, and we need it."

"What kind of map?"

"Of a city.  Absconditus.  It was sealed with the vault door down in the dungeons."

"The one with the Veriatice symbol?"

Harry looked to Blaise and then Ron. 

"I suppose.  How do you know . . ." 

"Rune." 

"Right." 

"You're talking about the Prophecy of the Mages." 

"How do you . . ." 

"Do you know what the Erinyes do, Harry Potter?" 

Harry looked to Ron and Blaise.  Both shrugged and Harry winced as Draco dug his knuckles into Harry's back. 

"Furies pursue and punish sinners.  They're called 'those who walk in the darkness.' "

"He's right," said Electra. 

"But Hero -- I -- was innocent." 

"Hero wasn't being punished.  The Prophecy of the Mages isn't only legend in your culture.  Anyone who played a part has their own story, you know.  Ours just happens to focus on our part of the story." 

"How do you know that Hero wasn't being punished?" 

"Rune branched our world to the human world, and we, in turn, set the path for Hero to return and balance the karma.  The Fates said you would come in my lifetime, but I didn't believe it until this moment." 

"So you'll help us?" 

"Of course.  On one condition, that is." 

"Name it." 

"I give you the piece of your map.  You leave us to live inconspicuously." 

"Not a problem." 

"Good.  Zangrid?" 

"Yes, Mistress Electra," said one of the house elves, rushing out of the cowering group and into the light. 

"Take Winifred and go down to the dungeons for me.  Find the Veriatice door and retrieve the map piece.  I want it brought back to me, do you understand?" 

"Yes, Mistress.  Zangrid will do good, Mistress.  Come, Winifred.  Come help Zangrid." 

Another house elf scurried out and away with Zangrid. 

"Would you like something while you wait?" said Electra. 

"No, thank you," said Harry. 

The next twenty minutes passed, Electra requesting things from various elves, which would run off to do her bidding.  Harry, Ron, and Blaise stood near the kitchen door, shifting footing, and gazing around the room.  It wasn't much to look at.  Big, copper kettles hung along one wall.  Tan, speckled paint peeled from the wall by the door.  A large window overlooked the overgrown gardens out back. 

Draco migrated from behind Ron to the spot next to the door.  His fingers itched on his hips, his eyes gazing at the doorknob.  Ron almost wanted to laugh, watching Draco's inner struggle.  Just when his head felt woozy, and Ron feared for his health, the door creaked open and Draco jumped back, yelping. 

Grabbing at his chest and heaving, Draco scuttled to Ron's side and put his arms around Ron's waist from behind.  His chin trembled resting on Ron's shoulder.  Draco's thighs shook from standing on his toes to reach Ron, and he peered at the house elves. 

"Zangrid and Winifred found it, Mistress Electra," said Zangrid.  "Zangrid and Winifred found Mistress Electra's map." 

"Thank you, Zangrid," she said, waving the elves away.  "Here you are, as promised.  Is it what you were looking for?" 

Ron watched Harry gaze at Electra's hand, the skin somewhat reminiscent of a mermaid's.  Long fingernails stretched over the map.  Harry fisted the fingers of his left hand while grabbing for the map with his right.  Those nails were too much; you could kill someone with nails like that.  For a moment, Ron supposed they could literally spoon the eyeball out with it, and as he thought so, his eyes began to itch and water. 

"Blaise, let me see the other pieces?" 

"I don't have them.  Ron does." 

"Right.  Ron?" 

"Oh.  Right here."  Ron stopped rubbing at his itchy, watery eyes to produce the Zabini and Weasley pieces of map.  Harry's fit next to Blaise's, the bottom, right-handed corner still missing.  Though all the words were in Latin, Ron was certain that the apothecary, a farm, an orphanage, the rest of town and market, and a forest -- Nazgenie -- were on it. 

"That's it," said Harry.  "And I suppose it's time to keep my part of the bargain." 

"Would you like to stay for dinner?  We could even fix you up for the night so that you don't have to travel." 

"That's all right," said Harry.  "We're close to our destination.  Thank you, anyway.  You've been an amazing help." 

"No problem.  Come by any time.  Tell them Electra invited you." 

"I will.  Thank you." 

Harry turned around, his eyes huge.  He didn't breathe until they were outside again and on their way to Malfoy Manor. 


	17. The Malfoy Manor

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Rating: R**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Summary: Wherein Draco breaks down, Draco breaks down, and Draco breaks down.**

**See previous chapters for disclaimer.**

**_Chapter Seventeen:  The Malfoy Manor_**

The sun descended beyond the horizon as they climbed to Malfoy Manor.  Ron watched Draco through the journey, not only concerned for how pale he became, but for how his arms shook and fingers twitched by his thighs.  When they came to the top, Ron tried to take Draco's hand, but it jerked away and into Draco's body.

"I'm sorry," said Draco.

"Don't worry about it."

"What happened?" said Harry.  He turned around, leaning into Blaise.

"Nothing.  Forget about it."

Harry shrugged and resumed his pacing, Blaise leading their slow drudge.  Draco stepped into Ron, the wind whipping at his hair and dislodging its perfection.  He dropped his head, resting his forehead against Ron's collarbone, and Draco dropped his hands to rest on Ron's hipbones.

"I am sorry, it's just . . ."

"That you're jumpy.  I know.  What if your mother is here?  What doesn't your mother want you to know?  What was your father hiding from you?"

"How do you read my mind?"

"I love you."

"I don't know what to do with that."

"Don't do anything with it.  Just let it be."

"I can't do that, either."

"Of course you can."

"No, I was never good at leaving things alone."

"Excellent point.  Listen, your mother isn't there.  We both know that, and whatever we find, we'll handle it together.  What can be worse than what we already know?  Honestly, Harry's a girl."

"I've had some idea on that one."

"Very funny.  I'm serious, Draco."

"So am I."

Against his collarbone, Ron felt the skin of Draco's forehead crinkle and the cheeks tighten.  Ron shook his head, grinned, and ran his hand along the back of Draco's neck.  The short hairs tickled his fingers and Draco sighed, rubbed his hands over the thin material of Ron's shirt, felt the wiry muscles hidden beneath.

"You're burning up," said Ron.  "You should get inside and lay down.  I don't like how sick you've become."

"You don't need to mother me."

"Why not?  Your mother doesn't.  Someone should."

"I don't want to be mothered."

Ron hooked his thumb and index finger around Draco's chin to tilt it up.  He bent forward, meeting Draco's lips, and brushed over the jawline with his fingertips.  As he pulled back, Draco gasped, choked on oxygen, and looked in the direction of the Manor.

"I don't want to go there."

"I know, love.  I know, but we've got to."

"You honestly think she won't be there?"

"You honestly think she will?"

"I don't know.  She knows I got out of Hogwarts in time.  What if she thinks that this is where I'm heading?  She could be waiting for us already."

"But she isn't.  This is the last place she'd expect you to go.  Grimmauld Place was far more obvious.  That's why we got out of there, remember?"

"I wish this had never happened.  I wish we were still back at Hogwarts and Voldemort wasn't trying to take over the world."

"I wish you would all stop saying his name."

"But the way you wince is so cute."  Draco smirked, cocking an eyebrow.  Ron laughed, shaking his head, and punched Draco on the arm.

"Prat."

"I try my best."  Draco wrapped his arm around Ron's waist.  "Brave it with me?"

"I have to.  You need to give me a place to sleep tonight.  We should have accepted Electra's offer."

"Because it would have been so charming to spend the night with the furies.  Would be a right old family reunion for Potter."

"Do you ever have anything to say that isn't snarky?"

"Not especially."

"Are you two coming, or are you going to stand there and flirt like a couple of fifth year girls for the rest of the day?" said Blaise.

"I'd prefer the flirting," said Draco.  Ron groaned, pushing Draco toward the gates.

"We're coming."

"Please don't," said Harry.

"Potter, that's sick.  What were you thinking?"

"You don't want to know."

"I was just going to say that."

The grounds were similar to the manors that came before (excluding the desolate Potter Manor).  A wrought-iron gate panned the perimeter, no visible chink in the artillery of Malfoy.  Two gates loomed before them, meeting at a straight angle, with neither doorknob nor keyhole.  A gravel path, which the four boys stood in the middle, led to the gates and beyond, straight to the door.

Draco bit his lip and walked up to the gates.  He ran his palm along the narrow gap where the two gates met and increased his pressure.  Nothing happened.  Frowning, Draco ran his fingers along the fresh, waxy paint and stopped about three-quarters of the way down.  Pulling out his wand, Draco muttered something about tickling an ickle pickle, and stood.

A low creak squealed as the gates swung into the grounds.  Harry arched an eyebrow, following Draco.  Once all four passed through, the gates shut again, and Draco started toward the doors.

"Did you say 'Tickle Ickle Pickle'?" said Harry.

"Don't ever speak of that to anyone."

"What is that?"

"You know how Ron's brothers make prank sweets?"

"Yeah."

"My brother makes his own spells."

"Whatever happened to _Alohomora_?"

"My parents protected against all known wizarding spells, so Phoenix created his own.  It was how he came to see me after he was disowned."

"Is there any significance to the ickle pickle?"

"None whatsoever."

"All right."

Made of rich stone, Malfoy Manor stood three floors high with one tower at the back.  The doors were large, made of oak, with heavy silver knockers in a simple, circle shape.  Grasping the handle, Draco pulled open the door, which swung with ease and without any of the expected creaking its ancient hinges indicated.

The carpets were rich, plush, emerald green extending from one wall to the other.  The foyer was larger than the others; Terence had a higher touch of elegance than his brother.  Two iron chandeliers hung above them and lit upon entrance, casting wild shadows to jump across the walls in an exotic dance.  High-arched doorways stood to the left, the right, and a corridor led straight ahead, running under the double staircase.  It split off above the corridor ceiling, one rounding the left, the other right.  Silver banisters lined the staircase and the balcony over the corridor, overlooking the entrance.

Harry released a low whistled and rocked on his heels.

"Quite the place you've got here, Malfoy."

"Yeah, it's great," said Draco.

Lugging their bags along, Draco gave them a brief tour of the first floor, which included the parlor, two dining halls, the drawing room, several locked doors that Draco called offices, and the kitchen.  About five house elves milled around the kitchen and cowered when Draco walked in.  One even went so far as to praise Harry when Draco's back turned, and then bashed itself in the head.  After grabbing something to snack on, Draco led them to the library.

The ceilings were high and painted a dark, stormy grey reminiscent of the Hogwarts ceilings when it rained.  Three cherry-wood tables stretched the length of the room, one end by the French doors and the other by the high, arched windows.  Heavy, green-velvet draperies hung on silver rods and were pushed back, allowing the dying light to bathe the room in a soft glow.  Upon entrance, the silver chandeliers lit up, illuminating every last crevice of the room, and the fireplace on the far left wall sprung to life.

Above the crackling of the fire which roared red, orange, and yellow in the hearth, Draco pulled out one of the high-back, cherry wood chairs.  The legs scraped over the flagstones and Draco dropped into the chair.  He slung his bag onto the table, and propped his elbow on the tabletop.

"I don't think we're going to spend much time in here so we may as well get it done tonight," said Draco.

"I'm tired," said Harry.

"And tomorrow's going to be busy," said Blaise.

"But we're going to spend all day in the town hall looking at record books.  We have to get this out of the way.  Believe me, it won't take long.  I grew up spending my summers in the library.  There isn't much here.  My father sent everything he didn't want me to see down to Town Hall.  They wouldn't understand it, and I couldn't be bothered with walking down there."

"So what are we looking for?"

"A trace that there is anything here.  Just to skim around a bit.  If we don't at least look, we could miss something, and lose valuable time coming back for it later."

Blaise grunted, turning around the library, and muttered something indistinguishable.  Harry rolled his eyes, nodded, and slipped his arm around Blaise's waist.  Pecking a kiss on Blaise's ear, Harry pulled him across the room and toward the wall opposite the fireplace.

Sitting at the middle table, Ron pulled out the chair opposite Draco and dropped his chin into his palm.

"I love you."

"Where did that come from?" said Draco.

"You look uncomfortable.  I thought maybe you were having problems being back at home after everything that's happened.  Wanted to remind you that I'm here."

A hint of a smile tickled the corners of Draco's lips.

"You don't have to do that.  I'm fine."

He stood and walked over to where Harry and Blaise rooted through the shelves.  He crossed one arm over his chest, rubbing at the inside of his elbow with his index finger.  His free hand hung poised above his chest, fingers curled into a soft fist.  The tip of his tongue peeked between his scarlet lips, and Ron licked his own, which seemed dry all of a sudden.

*

Ron sat in the dusty corner, head leaned back against the coarse stone wall.  He stared into the vacancy of his closed eyelids, but something rustled, and he stared up through heavy eyelashes.

"Why are you being so difficult?"

Ron winced, raking his fingers through his hair.  He closed his eyes, all too aware of their pounding, and he cried out.  There was no answer to his agony.  When he opened his eyes again, Bade crouched before him, and Ron wished nothing more than to scratch that look from Bade's face.  It was contorted, sneered, and Ron sighed, rolling his head onto his shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you aren't.  If you were sorry, you'd do it."

"I am sorry.  I'm sorry you're upset with me, and I'm sorry I let it go so far."

"I thought we were agreed.  We _all_ agreed to this."

"No, we didn't."  Ron pulsated, the pounding in his ears, eyes, and down to his fingertips.  Pushing off the floor, dust rustled around him, and he stood.  "We didn't all agree to this.  I never agreed, but you told Alecto I'd do it."

"So what now?  We've come this far.  Whether you do it or not, this city is going to collapse.  We've come too far for you to back down now."

"I am not going to be the cause of more casualties.  If I do this, then Absconditus is only the beginning.  I am not going to be responsible for that.  I'm not going to be selfish."

"We aren't done here.  This isn't what we set out to accomplish."

"It isn't what _you_ set out to accomplish."

"Ryan!"

Ron turned his head, meeting the blazing eyes of Alecto.  Hero sat behind her, slunk against Lorenzo, picking at the tattered slip hanging from her thin shoulders.  As he looked away, Hero caught his gaze and shook her head.

"You're disgusting," she said.  "How dare you do this to us?"

"Thank you," said Bade.

"You shut up.  I wasn't talking to him.  I was talking to you."  Hero pushed away from Lorenzo, got to her feet, and stalked to Bade, grabbing him by his collar. "It's you who got us into this mess in the first place.  If it weren't for you, we'd never even be here.  It's your mother who set it up.  It's your influence that made Ryan go along with the preliminaries.  We all knew he didn't approve, but you guilted him into it.  You guilt him into everything."

"Hero, leave him alone," said Lorenzo.  He groped out, his eyes blank and unseeing.  Ron felt his stomach clench and the bile rose in his throat.  Grasping at his stomach, Ron's eyes watered, blurring the world but for the pain writhing through his body.

"I won't leave him alone.  We could have died, forgotten about Alecto's prophecy, and been on with it.  We didn't have to play savior.  We could have let Larrissa and Reynaldo take over, but we all decided that was wrong.  We _all_ decided that.  What's left now?  Dying and taking down the city with us.  Well, Ryan had a problem with that one, didn't he?"

"Where are you going with this, Hero?" said Bade.

"Only that you've manipulated him into spreading his magic when you knew he didn't want to be reborn.  He's not going to be bound.  Ryan won't consent to that.  It's time you realized that.  And now we're dying for nothing."

"Alecto, what do you think?" said Bade.  "You know more than any of us here."

"You could have left the government corrupt, but it would have brought true evil to the world.  The only option, however, was to set things straight, and unless you're reborn, that would require more time.  Lorenzo could have helped us on that one, but it would've been impossible to orchestrate with the security on your cell.  By coming this far, however, and not doing the bind . . . the scales are thrown off.  Your gifts won't be taken, but the process isn't complete."

"So we have to do it," said Bade.  "We have to do it or everyone dies and the future is ruined more than it was before.  And that's our doing, now.  Not someone else's."

"I don't want to do it," said Ron.  "If I do it, everything's going to happen again.  I don't want more people to die because of me."  Ron coughed, buried his face into his shoulder, and tried to scream.  Choked sobs strangled him, and he fell to the floor.

"Ryan?"  Bade fell to his knees, pulling Ron into his arms.  Outside the window, lightening severed the sky.  Perspiration slimed onto Bade's skin.  Ryan's ashen blond hair hung in heavy, wet clumps.

"He's dying," said Alecto.  "It's starting."

Ron's eyes went wide and then there was nothing but black.

*

Clouds swirled in Ron's head and he blinked them away, searching for something to focus on.  Too many voices echoed.  Buzzing nagged him to an unbearable irritation.  His eyelids felt like weights, falling down on their own account and refusing to lift again.  Forcing a breath, Ron choked on oxygen, and his stomach ached as he coughed, tears flooding his limited vision.

"Love, you okay?"

"Maybe he should lie down."

"He's starting to creep me out."

"Lord, Zabini, catch up.  Potter and I have been creeped out for awhile."

"Honestly.  You mean the fact he can suddenly read Latin doesn't creep you out?"

"Creeped me out."

"You know what I mean."

"Actually, now that you've said that, I'm even more confused."

"You're always confused, blondie."

"Blondie?  What is that?  Never use that again."

"Shut up," said Ron, rubbing at his teary eyes.  Water moistened his fingers where he spooned it from his eyes, and he cracked them open to find Harry, Blaise, and Draco sitting by him.  Draco's arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he gave Ron's shoulder a squeeze.  Some of that conversation was starting to make sense.

"We noticed you were having a vision," said Draco.  "You freaked Blaise out.  He hadn't seen you in one before."

"Malfoy freaked me out," said Harry.  "It didn't occur to me that he had."

"Are you okay?  I was worried.  You started to look feverish."

"I'm all right.  Ryan was not."

"One of those," said Draco.  "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about.  Not just yet.  That okay?"

Draco frowned, but nodded.  "Sure."

"I'm tired.  Mind if I lay down?"

"Actually, we should all be going to sleep.  There's nothing here.  Nothing important anyway.  Just some basic Mage legend stuff that I think once belonged to Phoenix and might even be where he got everything.  Some old articles my father must have kept.  Nothing big.  Come on.  I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

Draco led them out of the library and back into the foyer.  Taking the staircase, he passed the second floor, where he explained the servants slept.  The third floor was lined with rich, cherry-wood doors ornamented with spectacular molding and glass doorknobs.  Leading them through corridors, Draco stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned.

"You'll stay across the hall from us," said Draco, directing his eyes to Harry.  "I recommend you be careful about what you touch.  This used to be Phoenix's room."

"Professor Valmont," said Harry, as Draco tapped the knob with his wand.

"Yes, him."  He pushed the door open, and led them inside.  "To get in, all you have to do is tap the knob once.  Try to make yourself comfortable.  Don't break anything."

A large four-poster bed stood against the far wall, heavy black velvet draperies surrounding it, which hung from silver rods.  The duvet was black, of rich heavy cotton, and immaculate.  If the pillowcases were any indication, the sheets were black silk.  Large, cherry-wood shelves covered one wall, piled with textbooks and unusual instruments that Ron often saw in places like Dervish and Banges.  The rolltop desk was opened, and papers spilled from it onto the chair, which was not pushed the whole way in.

"Don't touch Phoenix's papers," said Draco, trying to shove the chair in.  "He hasn't been here in ages, and I'm willing to bet it was mother who made such a mess.  Still, he visits once in a while, and I don't think he'd appreciate it."

"He certainly likes his books," said Blaise, picking one off the bureau.

"Yeah.  Don't touch those either.  And don't have sex in my brother's bed."

"Right.  Sure.  We won't."

"Potter, I don't like that tone."

"What tone?"

"Potter . . ."

"Didn't you say something about going to sleep?  I know I'm very tired.  Goodnight, Malfoy.  We'll see you in the morning."

Harry shoved Ron and Draco back into the corridor, the door slamming in their faces.  Draco frowned and looked to Ron.

"They're going to have sex in Phoenix's bed."

"Probably."

"That's gross."

"For Phoenix or them?"

"Both."

Ron laughed, pulled Draco into his arms, and kissed the space between his eyes.  Draco looked at Ron and sighed.

"I'm tired.  Not physically tired.  My mind is tired.  My emotions are tired.  My heart is tired."

"Come on.  Let's get you in bed."

Draco nodded, pulling Ron across the hall, and opening the door.  The chandelier burst to life, and bathed the room in a soft light.  Draco hissed, told the lights to dim, and then there was just enough light to maneuver around the desk, bureau, and high-back chairs.  A fireplace crackled to the right, and two sets of doors stood to the left.  A small table sat between the door and bed, and Draco fell past it to collapse in green, satin sheets.

Ron crawled under the sheets and wrapped Draco in his arms.

*

A loud smash pulled Ron from his dreams, one of the pleasant ones where he wasn't Ryan and You-Know-Who wasn't out to have him for dinner.  The room was cold; the fire died in the hearth and simmered on the embers.  Ron pulled the comforter up to his chin, hoping Harry and Blaise would tone it down.  He didn't get much uninterrupted sleep these days and he didn't need them contributing to the trend.  Sleepy haze clouded Ron's mind as he snuggled toward the center of the bed, groping for Draco.  His eyes sprung open as his fingers curled around the edge of the mattress.

"Draco?"

Another smash issued from the hallway and Ron bolted up, the sheets collecting around his waist.  Swinging his legs over the bed, Ron shoved the blankets off and hissed as the cold air hit the bare skin on his legs.  Pulling his abandoned T-shirt on, Ron pulled the door open and darted into the hall.

"Draco?  What's going on?  Where are you?"

More smashes and bangs came from the left at the far end of the hallway.  Ron raked a hand through his mussed hair, which hung in his eyes as he made his way down the hall.  A door on the right stood ajar, and a thin sliver of light shone from the sides.  Low, sullen sobbing wafted from the crack and into Ron's ear, and another crash issued.

Ron rested his hand on the doorknob and turned, inching it farther into the room.  He peeked through, sucking in oxygen.  His head felt heavy.

Draco sat in the middle of room, collapsed, his arms wrapped around his body, hands clutching at his head.  His blond hair stuck up in odd angles as if he somehow acquired the Potter hair gene by spending too much time around Harry.  The pale skin was bright pink, shiny, and scratched at some places.  Shallow cuts covered the backs of his hands and his fingers.

Tables lay strewn about the room.  Perfume bottles lay smashed on a long bureau and on the floor.  The full-body mirror that stood in the corner was smashed in several places and splattered with blood.  Papers lay strewn about the room and the bed was disheveled.

"Draco."

Draco's head snapped up and turned toward Ron.  His pale, blue eyes were wide and tear-stained, bloodshot.  He choked on a sob and pulled father into his body.

"What do you want?"

"Come on, Draco."  Ron crossed the space littered with glass and pulled Draco to his feet.  He had to support all of Draco's weight as Draco made no effort to stand on his own.  Pulling Draco close into him, Ron showered his face with kisses.  "Let's get you out of here.  You should have these cuts cleaned out."

"I hate her."

"I know you do, love.  Come on."

"I don't want to."

Draco pulled away, resisting the grip, but Ron held on.  Draco screamed, trying to claw at Ron's face, but only succeeded at giving himself a headache.  Fastening his arms around Draco's and clutching his own wrists at Draco's back, Ron pulled them tight against each other.

"You need to relax.  Breathe."

"I hate her."

"I know you do, Draco, but you need to come with me, okay?  We need to get you cleaned up."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I really hate her, Ron.  I do."

"Come on."

Draco collapsed against Ron and allowed Ron to lead them from the room.  They walked back toward the bedroom, and the door to Harry and Blaise's room creaked open.

"Whass goin' on?" said Harry, sticking his head out.

"Nothing.  Go back to bed.  We had a slight incident but we're okay now."

"Malfoy all right?"

"He's fine.  Go back to bed."

Harry nodded and disappeared, the door clicking into place.

"You should have told him the truth," said Draco.  He pulled away from Ron, wrenched open his door, and entered.  Ron followed behind and watched as Draco disappeared through one of the doors on the far side of the room.  In the dim light, Ron followed, stepping into a bathroom where Draco stood, staring at himself in the mirror.

"What was that supposed to mean?"

"That you shouldn't have lied.  You know I'm not fine.  I'm crazy.  I'm a mess.  There's no hope for me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've gone and made a fool of myself and lost my composure.  You can tell me.  It won't be the first time I've heard it."

"Don't be an idiot."  Ron grabbed the washcloth from Draco's shaking hands and worked at the wounds.  "I don't think you've got any glass in it."

"I'm sorry."

"Shut up, Draco.  Don't apologize.  Everyone garners the right to freak out once in a while.  I do it all the time.  And don't talk to me about composure.  I'm an expert at losing it."

"Why do you take such good care of me?  When no one else has?"

Ron didn't answer, patting at the scratches along Draco's hands and forearms.  His throat felt tight, and Ron wondered how this came to pass.  Only the second week of November and here he was at the Malfoy Manor, bandaging Draco Malfoy, and so deep in love he had drowned long ago.

*

"What do you mean confidential?" said Draco, slamming his fists on the counter.  Ron winced, looking away.

"Those files are confidential," said the man behind the counter.  His hair was thin and graying, and he wore a shabby pair of khaki trousers with a navy blue, collared shirt.  He winced, his fingers itching, waiting for the fight that was coming.  "Only the undersigned are permitted access.  You aren't on that list."

"But I'm their son!  And Lucius is dead!"

"As long as Narcissa is alive --"

Draco's hands clenched into fists and he turned, storming out through the double doors.  Harry, Blaise, and Ron looked from the swinging doors to the man and scampered after Draco.

After last night's commotion, Draco hadn't been able to get back to sleep, and spent most of the night lying soundless in Ron's arms.  A sleepless Draco led to an irritable Draco, and today wasn't going well.  The house elves provided breakfast, but Draco failed to hold his composure in the dining room, and had to retreat out onto the grounds of the manor for the first half-hour.  Once he relaxed, they dressed in Muggle clothes (as Malfoy City was a Muggle town), and headed for Town Hall, which was where they were now.

Standing in the courtyard that surrounded Town Hall, Ron sat on one of the benches and looked up at Draco.

"What do you propose?"

"I can't believe they won't let me have my family records!  I'm of age.  My father's dead.  It isn't like he'll ever know.  Who cares if my mother is still alive?  Those are mine, too, and I'm heir now that my father's gone.  I get everything, not her."

"Calm down."

"I'm with Malfoy on this one," said Harry.  "That's rot.  You're a Malfoy and you're the one who owns everything now.  Who cares about your mother?"

"Maybe they don't believe Daddy dearest is dead," said Blaise.  "After all, they don't exactly get the _Daily Prophet_, now do they?"

"What are we going to do now?  They have my books, they have my journals, and they have my map."

"Trying to access your records, are you?" broke in a new voice.

Draco spun around, and Ron leaned to the side, catching glance of a girl standing behind him.  Her lank, blonde hair was separated into two plaits, tied at the bottom with string.  Large, baggy pants hung from her thin waist, and a ratty old t-shirt draped from her shoulders.  Dirt smudged her cheeks and under her eyes, which were deep brown, sunken in, hollow.

"Dawn."

"I heard you were here.  Thought you were away at school this time of year."

"How did you know I was here?"

Her eyes met his for a moment, and then she turned her head, looking back to a row of trees lining the courtyard.  Standing behind one and peeking out was the little girl in rags from the day before.  Like yesterday, she was covered in dirt, her hair hanging in messy clumps that framed her small, round face.

"Nora said she saw you yesterday.  She said you were dressed like the bad people who took Leanne away."

Ron's eyes grew wide, looking to Draco.

"Who's Leanne?" said Harry.  "Who's this girl?  What's going on, Malfoy?  We're a little pressed for time, or maybe you didn't notice."

"Shut up, Potter."

"What's the hurry for?" asked Dawn.

"My business is my own matter."

"But it involves your records.  I can help you get at them.  I know a back way in."

"And what do you want for such valuable information?"

"Some valuable information in return."

"Which is?"

"I want to know what you aren't telling me.  I want to know where my sister is."

"What makes you think that I know?  Because your sister says she saw me yesterday dressed strangely?"

"No.   Because you didn't seem surprised when I told you someone took Leanne away.  You've been away at school, and you didn't come down to the city over holiday.  How else would you have known?"

"Maybe my father told me."

"Your father hasn't been around for a few years now.  Your mother would never know, nor would she care.  I've never even seen her in the city."

"So what if I do know what happened to Leanne?"

Draco crossed his arms and stepped back.  Ron glanced from Draco to Dawn, and rested a hand on Draco's upper arm.  He brushed it off.

"I want to know where my sister is.  You want your records.  I'll help you if you help me."

"Who are you?" said Harry.  She turned, looking him up and down.

"Who are _you_?"

"That's Potter.  Ignore him."

"Where is my sister?"

Ron slipped an arm around Draco's waist, playing with the waistband of the jeans.  The material felt so foreign on Draco's body, who Ron had never seen wear anything as common as jeans before.  Draco's breathing was labored, but you'd never be able to tell from where Dawn stood.  He could barely hear it, but Draco's body heaved beside him, and Ron's heart pulled, wanting to do the job for him.

"If you know where her bloody sister is, just tell her and get it over with," said Blaise.  "Harry's right.  We don't have time to waste.  Every moment is precious and we need what's stored in that building.  If your father wasn't already dead, I'd kill him for this."

"Leanne's dead."  Draco's head hung toward the ground.  "I can't tell you who did it, and I can't tell you how, but she's dead."

Dawn choked on a sob and the little girl, Nora, ran from the tree into Dawn's legs.

"Are you sure?"

"Unfortunately," said Draco, rubbing at the inside of his forearm.

"Why . . . who . . ."

"My father orchestrated the kidnapping.  I don't know what happened after, only that she died.  I've already shed my tears over her."

"Draco --"

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Ron teased Draco's fingers with his own, and Draco grasped Ron's hand.  His hand ached from the force, but Ron ignored the throbbing, far more focused on the set of Draco's jaw.

"There's more.  I know there is.  Who were those people?  Why . . . there's something strange about it, Draco.  Why were they dressed that way?  Why were you?"

Dawn frowned, almost whined, and tightened her grip around Nora.  The little girl clutched to her sister's legs, sobbing.

"I can't tell you that.  It's not my place."

"But --"

"It has something to do with my family, and something to do with my school.  And not everyone is bad.  It isn't a cult."

"If you could hold up your part of the bargain now --" said Blaise.  Draco glared.

Dawn nodded her head, weak and bobbing on her neck without much structure.  She led them around to the back of the building, numb, unmoving, and cracked into one of the doors with a hairpin.

"It's old, and they never reinforce this door.  Staff uses it regularly.  Sometimes it isn't even locked."  Pushing the door opened, she stepped away.  "Records are in the basement.  Head down until you can't head down anymore."  She paused, reaching out to touch Draco, and then pulled back as if thinking better of it.  Her eyes focused on Ron's hand in Draco's.  "I'm going to go . . . whatever you're doing probably isn't any of my business . . . Does it have to do with --"

"With what I'm not telling you.  Sort of Leanne, too."  She nodded, gripped Nora by the shoulder, and directed her away.  "Dawn?"

She paused, turned, but Nora went on walking and Dawn made no attempts to stop her.

"I didn't mean for it to happen."

An odd sort of confusion passed over Dawn's face, but she nodded.

"I know."

Dawn turned, following in Nora's footsteps.  Draco buried his face into the crook his arm, hacked through a series of coughs until his eyes watered, and heaved.

"Are you okay?" said Ron, twining an arm around Draco's waist.

"Fine."

"Draco --"

"I'm fine."

"Who was that girl?" said Harry.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You often have cryptic conversations with Muggle girls?"

"He doesn't want to talk about it," said Ron.  Harry stared, blinking.  "Let's just go, all right?  Before someone catches us sneaking in?"

Ron brushed by Harry and Blaise, going down into the old staff entrance.  He took the stairs to the left, descending down, and followed until he couldn't go any farther.  Footsteps pattered on the steps above him, and Ron didn't stop to see how close they followed.  He creaked open the only door and pushed in.

The walls were lined with bookcases.  Heavy, leather-bound volumes that were falling apart sat on these shelves, collecting dust.  A door toward the back of the room was marked private, and wouldn't budge when Ron gave it a push, but after a simple Alohomora, they were in.

The piles of books Ron expected to see along the shelves were not there.  Only one, simple bookcase stood along the far wall.  Its shelves were almost bare, little more than a few old books with broken bindings and stained pages.  Draco dropped his bag on the solitary, wooden table, which creaked with the added pressure and swayed as if preparing for a spectacular defeat any moment.

"What have we got here?" said Harry.

Ron crossed the room, standing before the bookcase, and Draco's arm brushed against his as he joined Ron's side.  Plucking a worn, leather book from the middle shelf, Draco pulled it open to where a thin piece of twine marked the pages.

"It's Terence's journal," said Draco.

"Well?" said Blaise.

Flipping through the pages, Draco paused, and pulled out a sheet of parchment.

"Where are the other map pieces?"

Blaise pulled open Draco's bag, rummaged through the books inside, and pulled out the three map pieces and a roll of Spellotape.  Earlier that morning, while Draco sulked on Malfoy grounds, Blaise taped together the first three pieces.  Now, he spread it out, and Draco smoothed out the parchment, laying it in the empty space.  In the bottom corner, beneath where the river ran off the page, were the initials 'RSA' in Ron's untidy scrawl.

"Suppose that's it, then," said Harry, as Blaise began to tape the last piece in.

"Not yet," said Draco.

He placed the book on the table, his fingers shaking as he pulled his hands away.  Tucked into the book was an old, worn parchment.  The handwriting was unmistakable; the Absconditus map was covered in it.  Even the 'RSA' was scrawled into the corner.  On the page after the insertion was the note:

_Was tucked into map piece in vault door.  Cane thinks this is the original prophecy.  The letters 'RSA' are on both the map and prophecy.  RSA:  Ryan Sloan Alcor?_

Draco held out the paper in which Ron's handwriting scrolled out the words.

"What does it say?" said Harry.  "Ron?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"You're the one who can suddenly read Latin."

Ron sighed, grabbing the parchment from where it lay.

"Shed not innocent blood; death is sweet but revenge is sweeter.  Such is the mantra of this city, and so it shall be.  A time approaches where the Mages will rise again to seek revenge on those who have wronged them.  The blood of a new life will make the Mages rise, more powerful than ever before.  The time approaches; the end of Absconditus is near."

"Alecto's prophecy," said Blaise.

"What d'you reckon we do now?" said Harry.

"Well we've already figured out where Absconditus is, haven't we?" said Draco.  "Everything's pointing us to our vault doors; the Slytherin twins picked our Manor locations because of unnatural magical surges.  Absconditus is below Malfoy City.  All we have to do is get in."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Blood," said Ron.  "Everything's pointing to blood, and you saw the Zabini vault door.  Lorenzo's symbol was marked into the metal."

"So what?  We prick our fingers and smudge it onto the doors?"

"I'd say that isn't far off.  I had a vision --"

"No surprise there."

"Why does Weasley get all the visions?" said Blaise.  "It'd be nice to know what's going on once in a while."

"Would you rather I not tell you what I've seen?" said Ron.  "I'd be perfectly happy to hand them over.  They give me headaches, and they're turning out to be more of a curse than a blessing.  You'll understand if I'm willing to just hand them over."

"No need to get tetchy," said Draco, resting his hand on Ron's forearm.  Ron bared his teeth, ripping it away.

"I hate it.  I get them about everything whether I want to or not.  They make me sick, and I don't like knowing what's going to happen.  I don't like spacing out and seeing things through Ryan.  I wish it would all stop.  If you all want to fight over who gets to be the Seeing freak, feel free."

"Ron --"

"Shut up, Bade, I don't want to hear it."

Harry arched an eyebrow, looking from Ron to Draco.  Blaise's lower lip curled beneath his teeth and they nipped at the skin.

"Let's not talk about it," said Draco.

*

Sun set below the horizon on Malfoy City as Draco, Harry, Ron, and Blaise finished dinner and dressed.  Pulled tight around their shoulders were warm cloaks and scarves wrapped around their necks as shields.  Draco coughed, refusing Ron's insistence that he take some sort of potion before they set out.

The dungeons were colder than they were in Zabini Manor.  They seemed to go down forever, but unlike at Zabini Manor, the walls were not covered in moss or mildew.  In fact, the Malfoy dungeons gave off a dusty appearance as if their use was abandoned only recently.  Ron swallowed, trying to ignore this as Draco led the way by wandlight.  As they reached new corridors, torches burst into life along the walls and diminished once the contingent passed.

Blaise carried the Absconditus map in one hand; the other fastened around Harry's fingers.  They hung behind, straggling as Draco referred to the Malfoy dungeon map.  He made it halfway before consulting the map, and they wound through a labyrinth of corridors until they came before the round, iron door.

Reaching into the folds of his robes, Draco whipped out a small pocket-knife, encrusted with emeralds and engraved with a dragon.  The blade glistened, reflecting the flames that licked at the walls.  As the shadows bounced, Ron squinted, and his eyes made out the double serpents wound about each other on the vault door.   A low hiss caught his attention, and Ron snapped his eyes to Draco.

Scarlet bled across the knife blade, and it beaded at first before secreting from the wound Draco marked into his palm.  Brief thoughts of tetanus and hepatitis passed through Ron's mind as Draco pressed his palm flat against the door between the serpent heads.  Low clicks echoed against the walls, metal squealing in agony as if it had long lost habit of use.  The door sprung inward, cracking ajar against the weight of Draco's hand, and a shiver passed through his body as he ripped it away.  The blade dropped to the floor with a clang.

"Instinct," said Draco.

Walking forward, Draco pushed against the door with his shoulder, heaving.  Ron came beside him, adding to the weight, and hinges screamed as it swung in.

"So," said Blaise, "who's going first?"


	18. Fontis de Ortus Lux Lucis

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein the past returns to the present, there are explorations, and more surprises than are really necessary.**

**I do not own Harry Potter and that is why I must sell my guitar for my ferrets' distemper shots.  (NOTE: My ferrets are named Squee and Draco, the amazing non-bouncing ferrets.)**

**Chapter Eighteen:  Fontis de Ortus lux Lucis**

Harry entered first, muttering, "Lumos," and lighting their way.  Blaise followed, carrying the Absconditus map.  The passageway was narrow, wide enough to fit three across.  Low ceilings gave Ron the paranoid impression of being smacked over the head, and though they were high enough to accommodate his personage, Ron walked hunched until the small of his back ached in protest.

Everything was dark and smelled like a foul combination of an old, stale room and sewage.  Broken stone lay weathered and eroded along the ground.  Fungus grew along the walls and ceiling.  This was like a terrifying combination of Aragog's lair and the Chamber of Secrets.  Needing to feel contact, Ron reached behind and grabbed Draco's hand.

Walking ahead, Harry checked out the passageways.

Blaise passed Ron and headed to where Harry stood.  He needed to be in the sun again, to feel its rays on his skin.  This place had a way of making someone feel dead and decayed, like the atmosphere.  It was only for a few minutes, and Ron already wanted to scream.

Draco tucked his left hand under his arm, the fingers of his right hand curled around Ron's, clasped tight enough that it was almost painful.

"I don't know about this," said Ron.  Draco nodded.

"Part of me wishes we would have never come down here.  But if we didn't -- I can't live with that kind of guilt.  If I can help and I turn my back on it because I'm scared --"

"Scared?"

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Terrified.  I don't know what's going to happen.  I don't know what I'm going to have to do.  It's all too big."

Ron didn't answer as the followed Blaise and Harry down the dark corridor.  Harry waved his wand back and forth, trying to see everything at one time.  The attempts were futile.  There was too much darkness, and a simple Lumos spell would never give them enough light.  Draco dropped Ron's hand, wrapped his arm around Ron's waist, and rested his head on Ron's shoulder.

"I don't feel well."

"I know you don't.  I told you to take something before we left."

"This must be what dying feels like."

"Don't be so melodramatic, Malfoy," said Harry.  "Are you going to whine the entire time?"

"If it strikes my fancy."

"Would you two shut up?" said Blaise.  "You're giving me a headache."

"You're not the only one," said Ron.

"Maybe that's because of all the saliva you and Malfoy seem to be swapping lately.  Leave it to a Malfoy to share his germs."

"Potter, do us all a favor and shut your face."

Harry frowned, rolling his eyes in the low light.  Dull semicircles flickered across the flecks of green and gold, and Harry turned his back to them again before walking on.

The passage narrowed, and Ron had no option but to crouch as he walked.  They descended a steep incline, the path worn.  Harry mentioned similarities between this path and the one that led into Honeydukes.  Ron remembered a similar one from the foray under the Whomping Willow.  Either way you looked at it good memories were not associated with this kind of journey.  Ron heaved a sigh and tried to regulate his breathing.

He dug his heels into the ground with every step.  As they traveled, the hill became steeper, and Ron thought it might be more efficient to have a seat and slide the rest of the way.  Draco might oppose, but Ron couldn't care less how dirty he was.  It had been a few days since he last had a proper shower anyway.

Bugs climbed, slithered, and crawled along the walls, which closed in on him with each passing second.  Ron tried not to think of all the spiders that lurked among the many creepy crawlies wedged into the ceiling, floor, and walls.  He shivered, crouching further still, and grasped Draco's hand.  If Ron fell, Draco was going down with him.

His heart pulled tight in his chest the farther they went, and Draco hacked from behind.  Once or twice, Ron heard him pause, and his arm would pull.  Ron stopped, waited for Draco to finish coughing, and then moved on again.  An image of Draco's skin grey and pallor flooded into Ron's mind, and he hoped that the sweat clamming Draco's hand was from the journey, not the illness.

The ground started to level, and Ron sighed: The glorious feeling of stretching out his spine was pure euphoria.  Ron never thought standing upright could ever feel so wonderful.  He cracked his neck and stretched out the muscles, breathing deep through his nose.  Stretching his legs, Ron tried to work the creaks out of his body, and keep up with the shorter Harry and Blaise.

As the passage opened farther, Draco moved next to Ron and rested his head against Ron's arm.  Ron more so dragged Draco than Draco actually walked.  His skin turned a sick, eerie grey, and his eyes, once vibrant, were lackluster, slitted.  Those deep pink lips (that Ron had so many fantasies about in the past few weeks) were slate and foreboding, cracked at places, and a thin sliver of drool caked the side of Draco's mouth.  Perspiration beaded against Draco's forehead, collecting at the brow.

"You look terrible," said Ron.

"I feel terrible."

Harry glanced back for a moment, eyes falling on Draco, before turning back to the passage.  They emerged in an old storage room, or so it appeared, filled with crates and boxes.  The air was musty, like a room that hasn't been opened in a very long time.  Absconditus had to be sixteen-hundred years old, and Ron supposed that classified as a very long time, but it seemed a little too long.

Ron felt it as soon as he walked in, sensed its presence as he drew closer.  The magic building in that room alone was almost enough to take him off his feet.  It whooshed through his head, setting off his equilibrium.  With the flow disrupted, nothing but the ebb there to sweep him off balance, Ron tried to collect himself and support Draco.  The last time he had been hit with this kind of feeling was when he had his first vision.  Before that, coming to Hogwarts gave him that high, floating sensation.  There was nothing quite like a surge of magic to get you going in the morning.

"Do you feel that?" said Ron.

"Feel what?" said Draco, limp in Ron's arms.

"He needs to rest," said Blaise.  "Soon."

"I know.  Draco, you think you can stand?  For a little while?  We're going to try to find a place to sleep for the night."

Draco nodded, his body raised on shaky legs.  Ron held him around the waist, his grip loose but prepared to latch on if Draco's legs should give.  Twisting the knob, Harry fought the warped wood of the door on the far wall to get through.  It creaked and almost came off its hinges as Harry and Blaise pushed through, and it hung haphazardly from the frame.

A long hall stretched before them.  Unlike the manors, nothing flashy stood out as either elegant or extravagant.  The floors were uneven slabs of stone, light grey, and turning black or green at some places with age and corrosion.  All lamps and light fixtures were eaten with fungus, and heavy clouds of dust billowed in angry clouds from beneath their feet.  High windows spanned the corridors on either side, a mess of broken framework and glass covered in moth-eaten draperies.

"I know there were a lot of charms on this city, most of them because we needed to return, but . . ."

"It's been sixteen centuries since we've been here," said Blaise.  "I know.  This stuff shouldn't exist anymore."

"But it's here . . ."

Ron drifted off, no longer remembering (or caring, for that matter) what he intended to say.  The heavy weight of the repercussions of this mission was lifted as Draco doubled over Ron's grip to throw up.  Beneath his hands, Ron felt Draco's stomach lurch, and the muscles pull.  Sweat poured down the back of Draco's neck, soaking the pale hair and making it darker, almost a pale brown.

Easing to the ground, Ron's arms bulged, holding Draco's body level with one hand while the other supported his head.  Blaise walked over, and pulled Draco's hair away from his face.  Pale skin flushed, sweaty, and burned beneath Ron's touch as Draco stained the stone with his vomit. 

"We've got to get him in bed," said Blaise.

"Good one, Blaise.  Where are we going to find a bed?  I don't even want to know how far under Malfoy City we are, and unless he gets a lot of rest, we may not be able to get him back up."

"He's just trying to help," said Harry.

"Well it isn't helping."

"Fighting with us isn't helping, either.  Since when do you get up in arms over taking care of Malfoy?"

"Since I fell in fucking love with him."

Harry opened his mouth, tongue poised with whispers of a word, but then his eyes caught Blaise, and Harry shut his mouth with an audible snap.

Draco fell limp in Ron's arms, and Blaise released Draco's hair, allowing it to cascade over Draco's shoulders.  Strands stuck to his sweaty neck and face as if drawn to a powerful adhesive, collecting in clumps that refused to give way.  Hoisting Draco to his feet, Ron supported him from one side as Blaise shifted his weight under the other.  Draco's head lolled, his chin scraping his chest, hooded eyes cast toward the ground.

Torches dimmed from behind and went out, leaving a trail of darkness behind.  Approaching, the torches grew bright and inviting, and though Ron wasn't sure quite where they were, he continued down the hall paying no heed to the high, double doors lining both sides.

Some strange, unspoken agreement led the three conscious boys to the end of the hall.  Double doors, pointed, and far larger than any other, loomed at the end.  They stopped before these doors, and Harry moved toward them, but they opened without any assistance, creaking on sixteen-hundred-year-old hinges.  Part of Ron's mind insisted that it was far longer.  The other part argued that this was neither the time nor the place, and that it was quite insensitive to have one's mind on such things when one's boyfriend was suffering.

Out in the open, the air was thick and musty.  Black and grey clouds billowed before them.   The sky was thick and foggy, glazing over the hard, stone dome that trapped in the ruined city.  Absconditus, or what was left of the ruins, spread out below.  To the right, a narrow path flowed down the slopes of the hill they stood on, like the entrance into the mouth of hell.

It would be so easy to go back; they could just run back inside and scamper up into Malfoy Manor.  It wasn't safe up there, but it wasn't inviting down here, and Ron wished they would have just stayed at Weasley Manor for the duration of the war.  In his arms, Draco lurched, coughing, trying to throw up, but producing nothing from his empty stomach, and Ron increased his hold around Draco's waist.

"Let's try to find a place to sleep," said Blaise.  "I'm not going to make it much longer and Draco's right out."

"Easier said than done," said Harry.  He stared beyond Ron, back at the building, which sat in the stomach of Malfoy Manor.  Ron turned, sucked in oxygen, and choked on the saturated musk.

They came out of a tall tower, which pointed to the dome's top.  Its upper parts were decayed, falling apart, and broken windows lined the many floors that descended impossibly high.  The architecture was too advanced for the fourth century; the magic of the time proved purer and more powerful than Ron ever thought possible.  He had seen pictures of Azkaban once, when he was little and Charlie wanted to give him a scare, and the tower had the same foreboding warning.

"Enough gaping, you two," said Blaise.  "Draco needs to rest.  Let's move."

Harry pulled his eyes away, heading the party as they moved to the narrow path.  The muscles in Ron's neck screamed as he walked, his eyes wanting to hold onto Alecto's Tower for as long as they could.  Recognition clicked the moment Ron laid eyes on the building.  He wanted to speak, to tell Harry and Blaise where they were going (the first Absconditus vision pictured Ryan dying on this particular hill), but he remained silent.  Every mention of a vision caused Blaise's eyes to glaze.  Harry stared, unmoved at times, glaring at others.  Resentment never looked good on Harry, but Ron tried not to blame him.  It never looked good on Ron, either, or maybe that was just Ryan digging under his skin.

Did they think he wanted this?  Maybe they wanted to know what was going on, but Ron would be pleased if he didn't have a clue.  Sometimes it was nice to be included, to know what was progressing and why, but sometimes it was better to be in the dark.  Ignorance is bliss, and Ron wondered when he stopped being ignorant.  He figured sometime around fifth year when Sirius died and Harry lost his mind.

Somehow, he was the one everyone looked to now because Ron was the freak; he knew what was going on.  After years of being the youngest Weasley boy, all Ron really wanted was a little recognition.  A little appreciation every now and then wouldn't have been amiss.  This was more than Ron ever wanted.  Ryan was the unofficial leader of the Absconditus gang, though Ron wasn't sure whether it was because it was his family that was murdered or that he was the Seer.

They reached the foot of the hill, and continued along the path toward town.  To the right, far into the distance, Ron saw the high stone walls surrounding the upper-class village.  From what Ron remembered, there were many small castles in that area, a place where the noble family came from.  Larrissa lived there once, as a young girl, before bearing Bade and wedding his father.

Far ahead was the marketplace, the center of town, and the fountain ought to be there, but there was no time for foolery with the fountain tonight.  Castles, buildings were all derelict, falling apart and ramshackle, looking something like Potter Manor had from the outside.  Ron fought to breathe, almost frightened at the effect this abandonment had on his body.

Lush, green grass expanding over the vast Absconditus countryside was dull, barren.  Dirt paths intersected as they neared the market.  Without thinking, Ron turned to the left, dragging Draco and Blaise.  Harry called to them, retracing his footsteps, and he raced ahead.

"Where are we going?" said Harry, pulling the worn map from his pocket and rubbing his dirty hands over his jeans.  Ron wondered when Blaise and Harry passed the map, but he supposed it didn't matter.  Blaise couldn't carry the map and support Draco at the same time, anyway.

"I'm not sure," said Ron.  "Where were you going?"

"Town.  I thought we could head into the center and then decide where to go."

"That'll take too long."

"So where are you taking us?" said Blaise. 

"Palace," said Harry.  "It's the only thing this way, unless you plan on taking us to the gallows."

"Gallows?" said Blaise.

"From Ron's –- er -– Ryan's notes, this path was only taken by royalty.  If you go right . . . yeah, right leads to some kind of dais.  There's a note about announcements.  Maybe that's where they made their public appearances.  And when you go left, it takes you to the palace, unless you keep going on past, and then the gallows.  At least that's what I think from the pictures and my brief knowledge of Latin."

"Figures Ron takes the royalty path."

"It isn't like I knew what I was doing.  I just turned.  That's all.  Don't make such a huge deal about this."

Ron felt white-hot anger bubble beneath his skin, and there was that weird, glazed look in Blaise's eyes.  Getting a bit annoying, really, watching them stare and glare as if he was some sort of freak show.  Didn't they talk to him about instincts the very first night while trying to explain their newfound love affair?  Why did everything concerning Ron have to be some kind of drama?

It was hard to believe anyone could be resentful toward him.  Ron just wasn't the kind of guy that people like Harry and Blaise resented.  Resentment was too close to jealousy for Ron to ever be on the receiving end of such an emotion, and now that he stood there, somewhere between flux and influx, Ron wasn't sure he liked it.

Furthermore, Ron wasn't sure he liked this knowing where he was going.  The path seemed familiar.  His mind's eye scanned over the barren landscape, lit with an eerie glow that only something like magic could produce.  There were places where Ron was sure he knew what should be there.  An apple orchard blossomed in one location, and at another, you could often see children racing in the fields while their mothers at home did the washing.  As Ron walked by, he no longer felt Draco's weight pressing on him, but the sensation of floating captivated him, and all the people in the streets stopped, paying homage to the royal family as they passed by.

Sometimes Percy reminded him of Starvos.  Ron didn't know when the connection came about, but when they were younger, Ron often resented Percy in an odd sort of way that was never quite clear.  He pondered this as they rounded the bend, and the palace came into view.  The same odd, horrible hatred boiled inside him at the sight of the desolate building.  No longer was it the palace; this place was his home, and he didn't pause to gawk or stare as he had at Alecto's Tower.  The sense of knowing was familiar now and held little captivation or surprise.

It wasn't as big as you'd expect the castle of the royal family to be.  Things weren't as lavish back then as they were when the Manors and Hogwarts were built.  Wrought-iron gates surrounded the perimeter, guarding what stood sacred on the other side.  As they reached the end, they followed the rust-eaten metal to the high, double gated entrance.  A large key-lock lay set in on the right door, but the handle turned with ease, and flecks of metal chipped off on Harry's fingers as he pushed in without the expected creak, allowing the gates to clang behind them.

To the left, high walls of broken stone, sedimentary and flicked with quartz, stood.  Moss and lichen climbed over the rock, and Ron marveled at the survival of plants in a land where the sun never shown and water never flowed.  More of the magic built into the city, he supposed, shifting Draco's weight from his arms to his shoulders.  The walls stretched out from Ron's view, and halfway down, hidden behind strands of ivy, was a small wooden door with a round handle.  The gardens, if Ron remembered correctly, lay beyond, one of his favorite places to go when Starvos or Larrissa was really getting to him.

On the right, a path broke out from the courtyard, reaching to a small building Ron couldn't make out.  Instinct insisted that the carriage house and stables were back there, among the many trees that once lined the property.  They were gone now, nothing left but petrified wood and a low, musty scent wafting through the low light.

Straight ahead, the courtyard narrowed into a path leading to the entrance doors.  Two shallow basins stood on either side of the path, rounded, and walled with small stones, rough on the outside, smooth on the inside.  Fish once lived in these ponds when water flowed through Absconditus, and Ron closed his eyes for one pained moment.  Dawning Light was never supposed to look like this.

"All right there, Ron?" said Harry.

"Not quite, but I will be."

Harry nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning back toward the palace.  It didn't loom; there must have been only two floors.  Malfoy Manor was taller than Dawning Light, but it stretched out longer than the Manors.  The center part of the front palace wall lay constant and straight, the doors centered on their walls.  To the left and the right, tall towers spanned from the ground to the sky, triangular rather than circular.   In the back, Ron was certain that rectangle protrusions would stick from the back corners on the second floor, overhanging the patio areas on the left and right.  In the center, there would be a semicircle, the third tower which reached heights taller than the front towers.

There was that odd prickling again, the anger and hatred burning inside his body, simmering just beneath the surface of his skin.  Harry moved to open the doors and only succeeded in forcing one to move.  The other seemed rusted shut.  It was as bad on the rest of the building, at least from the outside, and upon entrance, similar effects bode on the palace as Potter Manor had.

Things weren't lavish, but they weren't extravagant when Ryan was alive, either.  Though the grandeur of the shock wasn't on Potter level, it was considerable.  It had been sixteen-hundred years.  Corridors extended to the left, right, and straight ahead.  Before them, staircases with similar construction to Malfoy Manor loomed.  Two staircases started, leading up to a landing that stretched over the forward corridor, and then they separated to the left and right, climbing to the second floor.

"We can explore after Draco lies down," said Ron.

Harry's head snapped around, he nodded, and they all moved to the left staircase, following Harry's lead.   At the landing, Ron directed them to the right, and they came out on the second floor.  A balcony stood straight ahead, railings wrapped around a large semicircle.  Harry walked to it, leaned over, and gazed down below.

"The ballroom," he said.  "I remember standing here when I was little, watching everyone dance.  I remember watching you and thinking you were the most handsome man I'd ever seen."

"I hope you're talking about me," said Blaise.

"I wish I were," said Harry, a wry smile twisting his lips.  "Gods, I really was a girl."

"Why do you say that?"

"I remember wishing I could wear the dresses."

Ron laughed, shifting Draco back to his arms.  "Don't worry about that, Harry."

"I'm not worried about it.  I'm getting used to this girl thing.  It's not entirely as bad as I thought it would be.  Wouldn't it be fun to go back to Hogwarts as a girl?  They could call me the Boy-Who-Was-Really-A-Girl-Who-Lived."

"That's a really long name."

"So is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Good point."

"Can we please put Draco down?  My back is breaking."

"Sorry, Blaise," said Harry.  "Well, Ron?  It's your palace.  Where to?"

"Around the right.  You see that door on the other side of the balcony?"

"There's two," said Blaise.

"The one on the far right.  That's Bade's room."

"How do you know?"

"The same way I know this is the Dawning Light Palace, and the same reason I can suddenly read Latin.  Instinct."

"All right.  Harry, get the door."

Harry nodded, running around the right side of the balcony to the door.  He turned the knob, gave it a rough shove, and opened the door.  Blaise and Ron lugged Draco, entering the room, which sprung to life, lamps shining.  Small, wooden tables stood around the room, and on the far left wall, a painting of some long-dead relative hung.  A crooked smile crossed Ron lips, knowing where that painting led.

"Bade's chamber isn't very big," said Harry.  "In fact, I think it was the smallest.  I remember you complaining about it."

"Ron's never happy unless he's complaining about something," said Draco.

"Didn't know you were awake, love," said Ron.

"Been saving all my energy to insult you."

"And you couldn't even do that properly.  Well, into bed with you.  Harry, get the blankets."

The bed, large and lush with heavy red blankets and canopy, was still in tact.  Ron didn't have time to marvel.  His back, too, felt like it was breaking.  Blaise and Ron heaved Draco onto the bed, pulling the covers up to his chest, and Ron fell next to Draco, sighing.

"And I thought that was the lighting," said Harry.

"What?"

"Er -– he looks different.  You know, come to think of it, you look different.  Your hair looks bleached out."

Blaise eyed Ron, and nodded.

"It does.  It looks like you've been in the sun too long.  And Draco . . ."

Ron rolled over, looking at Draco.  The long, pale hair was darker than its earlier light brown.  It was the color of milk chocolate, falling on his shoulders, stringy from sweat and sickness.  He stared at Ron through slits, his eyes bluer than Ron remembered them being.

"What's going on?" said Draco, wincing.

"I'm not sure."

*

One would think strange journeys around sixteen-hundred-year-old magic palaces would be fun.  Truth be told, the boys were rather bored.  After leaving Draco to sleep, Ron, Harry, and Blaise set out to explore.  Ron felt like the odd man out, watching Harry and Blaise hold hands on their trek.  He had to admit it wasn't fair, but part of him considered claiming guilt at leaving Draco alone just to not witness the displays of affection.

They explored the grounds, finding the gardens (which were just as dead and decayed as most of the city) behind the moss-covered walls.  The stables and carriage house were in the back right corner of the grounds.  In the lower rooms of the triangle towers, the study and drawing room lay.  In the back semicircle tower, Ron amused himself going through the library, but Blaise and Harry had enough libraries to last them a lifetime, and so they headed back to explore.  After kitchens, parlors, classrooms, dining halls, and throne rooms (not to mention the lavish ballroom from which Harry stared down on earlier), they wandered into the servant's quarters.

"I came from a farm," said Harry, brushing his hand over the sheets of one room's bed.  "I had to work there because my family worked up debts they couldn't pay.  They used me for money.  They didn't love me.  You think that's what my real mum and dad were like?"

"No way," said Ron.  "Not with the way Lupin and Si –- well, you know, everyone talks about them.  It got split up.  Your mum and dad loved you, but they died.  The Dursleys treated you badly.  Look at the way my family back then treated me.  My mum and dad aren't like that."

"Percy kind of reminds me of Starvos."

"I thought the same thing earlier.  It's not like that, though.  I don't hate Percy.  I do hate Starvos."

"My family's the same," said Blaise, shrugging.  "Only I don't have a thousand siblings."

"And it was Draco's father who was overbearing.  Bade didn't even have a father."

"But Draco says that his mother was behind his father," said Harry.

"But Draco had a father.  Bade didn't.  Not everything repeated.  You aren't a girl."

"I should've been.  It would have been easier.  I wouldn't have to deal with a gender-identity crisis.  I don't want to spend the rest of my life trying to be a boy and trying not to be a girl.  No wonder Dudley used to tease me for acting like a little girl.  I was."

"You were raised as a boy," said Blaise.

"With a girl's instinct."

"Who cares?"

Harry shrugged, sitting on the bed.  Blaise sat beside him, snaking his arm around Harry's waist and kissing the top of his head.

"Harry, you aren't Hero Veriatice."

"That's just the thing.  I am Hero Veriatice.  Somewhere inside, I am."

"You used to be, but come on.  Ron used to be Ryan.  You honestly think he's a prince?"

"He's a king," said Harry, smirking.  "Draco's never going to live that one down."

"Providing he lives," said Ron.

"Don't be so melodramatic.  Draco's immortal."

"Bade's immortal."

"Same person.  Pay attention to the conversation.  You've got to keep up."

"It's funny . . ." said Blaise.  "We all came from different places, and we all ended up here.  Hero lived at the farm, but she was sent here.  I ran away and ended up here.  You were born here, and Bade . . . and then we all ended up at Hogwarts together."

"I don't see how it's funny," said Ron.

"That's because your visions suck all the fun out of you," said Harry.  Ron grinned, pulling his arms into his chest.  "I'm tired.  Where are you going to sleep?"

"I was going to sleep in my chamber.  It's weird, but . . . it's mine, you know?  Or at least it used to be.  And you?"

"I think I'm going to stay down here."

"I'll join you," said Blaise, sitting by Harry and taking his hand.

Ron excused himself, heading out of the room and through the tangled, narrow hallways of the servants' quarters.  Coming to the large, ebony door, Ron turned the glass knob and exited into a long hallway by the staircases.

When he emerged on the second floor, Ron walked to the balcony and grasped the railing, leaning over to stare at the ballroom.  Candles dimmed, illuminating the ramshackle walls and floors, memories of what had once been.  It was hard to grasp, standing here, aware of all that had been and what it had become.  To the right were the tower stairs, leading up to Reynaldo Lynx's quarters.  Straight ahead was Bade's chamber where Draco lay sleeping in a fever pitch.  Ahead to the left was Ryan's chamber, and Ron trailed a hand along the banister of the balcony, moving to the left this time, and rounding the semicircle.

The doors pushed in, falling with ease at Ron's touch.  Much larger than Bade's, Ryan's chamber spread out to the right and left, turning on the left in an 'L' shape.  Where the two lengths met, a wall lay in one of the back, rectangular protrusions, and a single door stood in the center.

He entered on the short part of the 'L', moving left toward the inlaid door.  He pushed in, greeted with the washroom.  Thin curtains, stiff with age, barred the windows.  Low torches lit the four corners and around the tub, standing on clawed feet.  It was strange to see a tub without fixtures.  A realization of just how old and ancient this place was gave Ron a headache, and he stepped back into the bedroom.

On the long part of the 'L' (which wasn't that much longer), a door stood on the far end, and double doors loomed on the right wall.  The double doors led to his closet, and the far door led into the hallway -- the servant entrance.  It was Hero's entrance, if you wanted to be more specific, and Ron felt his cheeks heat, thinking of the tub without fixtures, the closet, and how royalty did next to nothing for themselves.

Back on the short part of the 'L,' the large bed stood, sheets tucked in with perfection and canopy overhanging after all these years.  The bed was familiar, Ron realized, as he slid beneath the blankets, not only from visions but memories as well.  Long nights lying with Bade beside him, below him, inside him infiltrated Ron's senses, and he clenched his fists.

*

Sunlight does not touch Absconditus.  Last night, when it was dark, this had been easy to accept.  Today, when the rays of light did not touch the windowpanes, this was harder to believe.  Ironic for a place called Dawning Light, Ron awoke to a room just as dark as it had been when falling asleep.  The only difference lay in Draco, who stood in the portrait doorway between their chambers.

He looked better this morning.  The skin still stretched gaunt over his face, making his bones stick out in a sick gesture.  His hair was so black it looked blue, foreign and familiar as it fell over his sticky face.  Bright blue eyes sunk into his skull, dark circles holding them in place, softening the blow.  His eyelashes fluttered and Draco leaned his head against the frame.

"I remember I used to visit you at night this way.  Sometimes I'd fall asleep and Hero would kick me out in the morning."

"Yeah," said Ron.  "Bloody useful, that."

Draco padded across the room and slid beneath the blankets, wrapping his arms around Ron's waist.  He buried his face in Ron's chest and inhaled, rubbing against the material of Ron's dirty T-shirt.

"You smell."

"So do you.   Should you be up and walking around?"

"I feel better.  Just a headache."

"I don't think you're up for any exploration today."

"What kind of exploration?" said Draco, his fingers skirting the length of Ron's torso and tugging at the hem.  Slipping a hand inside, Draco pressed his palm flat against Ron's stomach.

"What did you have in mind?" said Ron, arching an eyebrow.  Draco grinned, releasing the pressure and trailing his fingers to Ron's chest.  "You're sick.  You shouldn't be doing this."

"Why?"  Draco pushed out his lower lip, and he pinched Ron's left nipple between his forefinger and thumb.  "Don't you want me?"

"You know that isn't it.  You should be in bed.  You're sick."

"I feel better.  I told you that.  As it is, I am in bed."

"Not like that, you aren't."

"What does that matter?  I'm laying down."

"You should be resting."

Draco shrugged and raked his nails over Ron's neck.  He continued to roll Ron's nipple between his fingers.

"How am I supposed to rest when we're here, and you're right next door, and did you know you're blond?"

Ron hissed, scrunching up his eyes and throwing his head back.  Draco seized the opportunity, attached his mouth to Ron's throat, and ran his teeth down the length, pausing to suck on the Adam's apple.  He dipped his tongue into the hollow crevice at the base of Ron's throat and nibbled on Ron's collarbone.  Wrapping his fingers around Draco's hair, Ron tugged back, and brought his head down to crash their mouths together.

Dropping his hands to Ron's hips, Draco dug into the hipbones, his fingers molding to the shape.  Ron tried to keep his hips down to the mattress, tried to keep his body from responding because Draco was sick and he wasn't going to get better this way.

"Draco, come on," said Ron, squirming, whimpering as Draco dug his nails into Ron's thighs.  "You're going to get worse.  You need rest."

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"  Draco ran his tongue over the sliver of skin exposed between Ron's T-shirt and jeans.  He nipped at the waistband, teasing the skin beneath with nibbles.

"You don't feel well."

"You do."

"Draco --"

"Aren't you sick?" said Harry.  Ron jumped, jerking his head away from the pillow and looking to the door.  It was closed.  He frowned, his brows knotting, but Draco poked him in the arm, pointing to the servant entrance.

Harry leaned against the jamb, his arms crossed over his chest.  Blaise stood behind him, his arms wrapped around Harry's waist.

"Couldn't wait, could we?" said Blaise.  A wry smile twisted his lips.  "Guess this place has a way of getting inside you."

"Why do I get the feeling this used to happen a lot?" said Draco, frowning.  "Don't you two have other places to be for the time being?  It's been a week since I've properly touched him."

"Too much information," said Harry.  "If you tell me about how you're sexually frustrated as well, I may have to cut my ears off."

"What do you want?" Draco rolled off Ron and laid next to him, stretching out his body, one arm languishing above his head while the other draped across Ron's hips.  "It had better be good."

"We came to wake you," said Blaise.

"No need.  As you can see, we're up already.  Go do naughty things to each other and let us be."

"We've already done our naughty things to each other."

"Now that's not fair."

"We're hungry."

"So am I.  Take the hint."

"What are we supposed to eat while we're here?  How long is this going to be?"

"Why are you asking me?" said Ron.

"Because like it or not, you're the unspoken leader of this group.  Accept it."

"It's not that bad," said Harry.  "Does get tiring, though.  Thanks for the relief, mate."

Ron scrunched up his face, nodding.  He sat up and swung his legs over the bed, Draco's hand falling onto his thighs as the blankets collected around his waist.

"You're welcome.  Listen, I don't why you've elected me in charge.  I still haven't figured out why Ryan was in charge."

"It was your family.  We were accused of conspiring with you," said Draco.  "Still, I see what you're saying."

"I'm a bad leader."

"So was Ryan."

"Tough it out," said Blaise.

"If I have to tough it out and be a leader, you all have to tough it out, too.  We didn't have great planning."

"That's my fault," said Draco.  "I figured how to get here.  I should have thought of what we were going to do once we actually arrived."

"Actually admitting it?" said Harry.  "How noble of you."

"Stop it.  This is not the time nor the place."  Ron sighed, raising a hand to rub at his temples.  "It's things like that, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Fine, then.  Let's try to do this as fast as possible.  Draco, you're staying here and getting rest."

"No way you're going out there without me.  If you go, I'm going."

"You're sick."

"I'll deal.  If you go without me, I'll follow once you've gone.  You know I will."

"All right.  There's no food.  We have to deal with that.  I propose we look through the city.  The fountain's in the center of town.  Let's check that out first."

"What about the blood?" said Blaise.  "A blood of a new life will make the Mages rise.  Remember?  It's in the prophecy."

"We'll figure that out when we get there."

*

"Potter, would you stop swinging you hips like a cheap whore?" said Draco.  "I'm getting motion sickness from watching you walk."

"I'm not swinging my hips like a cheap whore.  Since when are you watching my hips, anyway?"

"Since you've shoved them in my face."

Harry rolled his eyes and continued walking, his hips swaying in exaggerated sweeps.  Blaise smirked, grabbed Harry's hips from behind and pulled Harry against him.  Groaning, Draco gagged and turned to Ron, his eyes narrowed.

"Malfoy, we've been dying to ask you --"

"How I wish you would?"

Harry smirked.  "What happened to your hair?"

"I don't know, all right?  It's just . . ."

"Black," said Harry.

"And Ron's blond," said Blaise.

"And you're a woman," said Draco.

"It's not like I have breasts.  You don't have Malfoy hair anymore.  What would your mother say?"

"Curse me as a disgusting by-product of filth and throw me down a staircase, but that's just the way my mother shows her love."

"Sounds like fun," said Ron.  He rolled his eyes, grinning as he met Draco's.

They walked down a path similar to the royal path they used yesterday.  Not long ago, they passed by the place where it led to the oracle, and shortly after there were paths on the left and right, one to the gallows, the other to a temple.  The dead, barren countryside rolled by, depressing Ron, and he tried to focus on the others.

"I'm hungry," said Blaise.  He kissed the arch of Harry's cheek.

"I hope you don't mean what it looked like," said Draco.

"He's got sex on the brain," said Harry.  "We interrupted his earlier excursion and he's getting rowdy."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're something of a slut?"

"Sometimes Hermione told me.  Ron just smiled like I was crazy and let me go on my tangents."

"Wasn't that sweet of him?"

"I don't know.  Was it?"

Draco grunted, shaking his head.

A path on the right, another bypass for the royal family according to Ryan's memory, stretched away from the main path.  They were close to town.  Ron saw the broken buildings looming in the distance, shadows of their former selves.  Market was a place full of loud children and happy people, and was one of Ryan's favorite places in Absconditus.  It had a way of cheering him up after another rousing row with Mummy Larrissa.  Now it was dead, depressing, and Ron wrapped his fingers around Draco's.

"The longer we're here, the more I remember," said Blaise.  "I used to live around here.  Up north, in a village where the lower class lived.  It was more of a shack than a house, especially with ten kids."

"So it's something like Weasley's hut, is it?"  Ron ground his elbow into Draco's ribs.  "Oh, I love you."

"I know," said Ron.  "I lived in the palace."

"So did we," said Blaise.

"But I was born there."

"Right.  The Forgotten Alcor."

"Yeah."  Ron looked to the ground, biting his lip.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know.  Forget about it."

They came into a circular area, lined with buildings (shops), and four main roads divided the lining.  In the middle, the fountain stood.  Its base was simple, large stones piled upon one another.  In the center was some unidentifiable metal, rising straight from the base and protruding with little curved spouts.  At the top, a crystalline star shone, growing brighter as they approached.

"Dry," said Blaise, dipping his hand in and swiping it over the bottom.  "Clean, though.  Must be a fountain elf lurking."

"Isn't falling apart, either," said Draco.  "Whatever magic is in there, it's powerful.  The other buildings, I mean, sure, they're here, but they're decaying.  This thing --"

"Looks like it was just built," said Ron.  He approached, dropping to his knees, and brushed his fingers over an engraving toward the bottom.  Leaning further, he examined the letters, running his fingertips across the letters:

Effundo non sanguis insontis; mortis est dulcis tamen ultonis est dulcis.

"Ron?" said Harry, dropping to his knees for a look.  Blaise followed, Draco leaning over his shoulder.  "Why can't I read it?"

"You were a slave," said Draco.  "I doubt slaves knew how to read."

"What does it say?"

"Shed not innocent blood; death is sweet but revenge is sweeter," said Ron.

"That was in the prophecy --"

"Yes, Blaise, we know the bloody prophecy," said Draco.  He looked around, taking in the paths, buildings, fountain.  Walking to the southeast path, he faced the fountain and walked directly to it.  "Ron, walk straight at it from the path we just came from.  Blaise, got to the northwest.  Potter, the northeast.  No, Potter, the other east."

"Instinct?" said Harry, glaring at Draco as he and Blaise switched positions.

"I just remember . . . Alecto told me how to do it.  How to restart the fountain.  She knew Ryan wouldn't listen.  Not with the way he was refusing to be bound.  In fact . . . I don't remember him . . ."

"I don't either," said Blaise, looking to Ron.

"This is not the time," said Ron, walking toward the fountain.  "I refused to be bound but I'm here, aren't I?  What does it matter?  Let's just get this over with."

Draco pulled out his wand, muttered something under his breath, and the tip of his wand grew bright red, smoldering without harming the wood.  He touched it to his palm, wincing to bite back a scream, and a thin stream of blood trickled from his hand.  Draco held his hand over the fountain, allowing it to stain the stone with small droplets.

In turn, Draco walked around the fountain, holding his wand to their hands.  Ron almost screamed feeling the wand sear through his skin, and the wound throbbed when Draco moved on.  He felt the pain travel up his arm and into his soul as Blaise and Harry contributed.  Both winced when the wand touched their palms, but neither screamed, and Harry squeezed his hand into a fist as Draco made his way back to start.

It was slow at first.  A trickle of water dripped from one of the spouts, landing on the stone with a large splash.  Then another spout burst to life.  Soon, the water poured, and Ron shivered.  His body felt as if it had been lit aflame and his skin burned away from his body, ash pouring off to reveal something fresh and new underneath.  The others looked the same way, and Harry fell to his knees, gripping at the edge of the fountain.

'What the fuck just happened?'

'Ron?'

Ron's head snapped up, looking around to the other three.  Their eyes were wide, looking at him in disbelief.

'Can you hear me?'

They nodded.

'Can I hear you?'

'I don't know.  Can you?'

Draco.  He hadn't spoken; Ron was sure of that.  His voice, however, sounded in Ron's mind as if he had.

'Something tells me bad things will come of this.'

Blaise.

'Actually, this could be useful.  It's weird, but, you know . . .'

'What do you know?  Potter's inarticulate in all shapes and forms.'

'Just what we needed.  New and fun ways for Malfoy to run his mouth.'

"Is everyone hearing this?" said Ron.

"I am," said Blaise.  "Or I was.  When no one was speaking.  It got fuzzy, though when I looked away from who was talking.  Thinking.  This is confusing."

"Still think it could be useful," said Harry.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Potter's right," said Draco.

"Things just get stranger and stranger," said Ron.

"Hey --"

"What do you expect?  By now, I'm used to things being strange.  Its when they're normal that I get confused," said Harry.

"Hey, Ron --"

"Potter, you're always confused," said Draco.

"Ron --"

"Blaise, what are you babbling about?" said Ron.

Blaise moved from his spot, grabbed Ron's head, and directed it toward the fountain.  His eyebrows furrowed as Ron's lips pulled into a frown.  The letters of the engraving were lit, glowing in the low light of Absconditus, and as soon as it started (or that Ron had noticed, anyway), it went out.

'What the --'

Ron had little time to finish the thought.  Eight, robed people -- Death Eaters -- appeared from the fountain, their wands trained on the boys.


	19. Fontis de Sanguis Insontis

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein Narcissa explains things and there are more questions than ever.**

**Please refer to previous chapters for information on archiving, disclaimers, and author's notes.**

**Chapter Nineteen:  Fontis de Sanguis Insontis**

Pushing back the hood of her robe, Narcissa's blonde hair flowed down her back and she trained her eyes on Draco.

"Thanks, doll.  Couldn't have done it without you."

"How did you --" said Draco, but Narcissa held up a hand.

"Don't tell me you didn't bother doing your research before coming here." 

"I researched.  How else would I be here?" 

She sneered, her lips twisting in a horrible sort of way. 

"Then you should have known, not that I'm complaining.  You don't know how long we've been trying to get here."  She tossed her hair off her shoulder, crossing her arms over her chest.  Rounding the fountain, she brushed by Draco, pausing to grimace at his deep black hair. 

The other Death Eaters didn't drop their wands or their hoods.  With Narcissa, there were eight, each with a wand drawn and ready to strike.  From his peripheral vision, Ron caught Harry sneaking into his own robes, but Ron didn't dare move.  It seemed that it was he and Harry who they paid attention to, and Ron possessed neither the grace nor the agility to draw his wand without causing a scene. 

"I see you've got it running, but how does it work?" said Narcissa, lifting a hand to her face and rubbing at her chin.  Long, painted nails scratched over her skin, raking pale crimson marks.  "Tell me you've gotten that far." 

"We aren't telling you anything," said Harry.  He held his wand behind his back, his fingers itching over the wood. 

"You will if you know what's good for you," said a second Death Eater.  His hood dropped back, and he switched targets from Ron to Harry.  For one fleeting second his dark brown eyes held Ron's, and then they turned to Harry.  Ron could've thrown up if he hadn't been caught so off-guard.  Ron would know those eyes anywhere. 

"Kill me if you want.  I'm not telling you anything and they aren't going to, either." 

Harry pulled out his wand, pointing it at the Death Eater. 

Narcissa snapped around to glare at him, but Ron held his hand out to Harry.  His movements were slow and calculated; Ron forced his eyes to stay on the man.  Sudden movements would not prove effective. 

"Put down your wand, Harry," said Ron.  "They've got the upper hand." 

"Good of you to notice, Alcor," said Brown Eyes.  His wand stayed on Harry, but he shifted his focus back to Ron.  "So you received our little warning and yet you came ahead anyway.  Not that I'm surprised.  You weren't bright back then, either." 

"What's going on?" said Harry.  His arm trembled, his wand shooting red and gold sparks. 

"Harry, put your wand down." 

"Listen to your boyfriend," said another Death Eater.  Ron felt his stomach shrivel at the voice and had to steady his knees when the hood fell back.  That rabid, hollow gaze haunted the back of his memories, and Rabid always had it out for Harry. 

"My boyfriend?" said Harry. 

"They know, Harry," said Ron. 

"They know about what?" 

"Us." 

Later, Ron reflected it hadn't been a good idea.  He could've gotten his head hexed off if they suspected what happened.  He could've gotten his head hexed off if he startled anyone.  By this point, Draco and Blaise both drew their wands, and the other Death Eaters began to lower their hoods.  Still, Ron snapped his head to look over at Harry. 

'Just play along.'

Harry frowned, meeting Ron's eyes.  At the thought, both Blaise and Draco looked to Ron. 

'I don't get it.'

'They don't know the baby wasn't Ryan's.'

By that point, Ron assumed they didn't need to be told it was a vision.  With Ron skulking around, reading Latin and guiding them through underground cities, it didn't need to be said.  All it took was the look of realization to dawn on Harry's face, and then he grew hard, angry, and Ron never knew Harry could be such a good actor. 

The Death Eaters split into two groups and rounded the fountain, crushing the four boys together, surrounding them.  Ramming back against each other, Ron grabbed Harry's hand and drew his wand.  One of the Death Eaters barked a laugh (Rabid, if Ron's memory served), and then they were closed in with nowhere to escape.  Harry's back heaved in rhythm with his breathing and his head fell against Ron's. 

"Since you bothered coming here without doing your research, let me catch you up to speed," said Narcissa.  She shot a look to Brown Eyes and Rabid.  This was her show, and Ron thought she might attack if they dared to interrupt.  "I hate when things aren't a fair fight." 

"Since when?" said Draco. 

"Darling, don't be like that.  If things aren't fair, it makes me look bad." 

"Do you only ever think about yourself?" 

She sniffed, but didn't answer.  Her wand stayed pointed, but she didn't pay it much attention. 

"There are three ways into Absconditus.  One is those vault doors.  I've known about them for centuries, but the four of you have made it very difficult for me to get in.  I admit, those binds you put on yourself and the city were impressive.  Alecto saved you once before, but she isn't here now, is she? 

"The other two ways come in through the Absconditus Fountain." 

"Fontis de Ortus Lux Lucis," said Ron.  Her eyes grew dark and Harry squeezed Ron's hand.  "That was its name." 

"Despite what its name was, entering through that means proved difficult.  You see, to activate the connection, the Absconditus Fountain actually has to work.  Once again, a nice job on Alecto's part." 

"What connection?" said Draco. 

"You don't know much about this fountain, do you?"  Draco remained silent.  "The Absconditus Fountain, or the Fountain of Rising Light, was built in 307 A.D. by --"

"Rilian Alcor," said Ron.  "He was my great-grandfather, one of the greatest kings of Absconditus.  He was also a war hero.  Known for being unmercifully just." 

"Anything else?" 

A strange feeling of things clicking together filled Ron to a point where he almost lost sense of his surroundings. 

"That's where the prophecy came from.  Rilian set down the magic of revenge in the city and the fountain embodied it.  Alecto knew that.  That's why we were able to use the fountain.  Because our magic was for revenge and with my being an Alcor . . . it made the bond that much stronger." 

"Very good."  She cocked an eyebrow.  "Figure that all out on your own?" 

"What's your point?" said Draco. 

"My point is that if an Alcor relative invokes activity into the fountain, and the Mages are now tied to the fountain --"

"A Mage relative could access the fountain," said Ron.  "Only problem is you need a Mage to actually open the connection." 

Narcissa didn't even look at him. 

"There have been two fountains built since this one.  One has since been destroyed thanks to your good friend Potter." 

"I never --"

"The Fountain of Magical Brethren," said Narcissa.  "Built in 1702 by Morgan Straker.  He was a direct descendent of Rena Lynx and Lux Dante." 

"But Lynx wasn't a Mage," said Draco. 

"No, but a Dante was." 

"No.  There were Alcor, Veriatice, Mizar, and Merak." 

"Mizar was my name.  Did it never occur to you that your father had a surname of his own?"  Narcissa raised an eyebrow, looking to Ron as if expecting him to pick up the explanation from here.  He didn't answer, and she looked back to Draco.  "Of course, Morgan never had any idea of the connection.  It was only when the fountain was moved to the Ministry of Magic and it wouldn't allow criminals near it that they discovered its magical properties." 

"It did come to life and save me," said Harry. 

"The other fountain was built in 1009 by Androcles Slytherin.  Androcles was the true heir of Slytherin.  He knew of the blood connection by then and was as determined to access the Absconditus fountain as his brothers.  Terence and Cane weren't successful, but Androcles managed to form some kind of connection." 

"It's the Fountain of Innocent Blood," said Draco.  "That's where you came from.  The Slytherin Manor.  The engravings are connected." 

"The what?" said Ron. 

"I told you about it.  The Death Eater fountain.  It pumps the blood of innocent children." 

Ron's head buzzed.  Everything seemed cloudy, fuzzy.  He gripped tighter to Harry's hand, wishing it was Draco's. 

"You know, I've dreamt about this moment for centuries," said Narcissa.  "The moment when you were weak and helpless and I could finish what I set out to do.  When you're gone, I'm going to be a very happy woman."  She closed in, cupping Draco's cheek with her palm.  He tried to rip away from her, but she crashed his head back against Blaise's, and wrapped her hand around his neck.  "Especially you." 

Her knuckles paled as she crushed her fingers into Draco's airway, and small, choked gasps whispered from his mouth.  He clutched at her arm with both hands, trying to pull away. 

"You are the biggest disappointment.  You were supposed to be on our side.  No matter.  I always wanted to be the one who killed you and here's my chance.  Bade was worthless and so were you.  Lucius -- he thought we could fix you.  He, of course, didn't understand the Mage business.  All he understood was the Death Eaters, so I had to kill him, too." 

She released her grip on Draco, smiling as he heaved.  Draco clamped onto Ron's arm, regaining his balance and breathing.  His skin looked pale and soft almost immediately, and Ron frowned, looking from Draco to Narcissa. 

"Like father, like son," she said. 

"I knew you killed him," said Draco. 

"It needed to be done.  He got in the way just like Jude, just like Reegan, and just like Starvos." 

"Jude?" 

"Bade's father.  Would you do these things properly?" 

"You killed him." 

"Of course I killed him." 

Draco must have forgotten there were seven wands trained on him.  He must have forgotten that he was sick and weak, because no sooner had things started to piece in Ron's head before Draco screamed, lunging himself onto Narcissa.  Wrapping his fingers around her hair, Draco ripped at her scalp, screaming obscenities. 

Curses flew around them.  There were several times when Ron thought Draco was hit, but he didn't slow in his beating.  A few of the Death Eaters charged forward, grabbing Draco and ripping him off of his mother.  He put up a fight, kicking and screaming, his wand lay forgotten on the ground.  In the confusion, Ron darted forward, snatched it up, and he skirted a curse of dark, violet light. 

"You should have died years ago," said Narcissa, rising to her feet.  Shoving her sleeves to her elbows, Narcissa pulled out her wand and trained it on Draco.  "You're all worthless without the Veriatice girl, anyway, especially the Merak boy.  Weren't good for anything, were you, Merak?  Just like in this life.  Probably a drunk just like Mummy and Daddy." 

Harry ripped his hand from Ron's, his wand out, and the words spit from his lips.  Stunning spells darted through the air so fast that Ron found himself to be far more flexible than he ever knew.  Draco wriggled free in the struggle, but it was a sort of chaos.  Death Eaters and Mages alike hid in the debris of old market buildings, stepping out of place long enough to send a curse across the battlefield.  Ron passed Draco his wand in the confusion and ran for cover. 

Several of the Death Eaters fell.  Harry was still on his feet, darting around to fight off the Death Eaters.  Ron had the same confused, woozy feeling from the Department of Mysteries (what he could remember, anyway, before going completely nutters and Accio-ing that brain).  It was hard to stay on his feet with the cloud around his brain. 

Ron fell to his back, staring up at the crumbling ceiling of a tailor shop.  He remembered coming here with his father and brother.  Bade wasn't often allowed to be seen in public with the brothers and Reegan claimed him more of a charity case than a son. 

His head hadn't felt this out of sorts since he got his first vision last year.  This is what it felt like when you fought them.  It couldn't be happening.  Ron clawed at the dusty ground creating clean rows where his fingertips raked away the dirt.  You didn't get visions in times like these. 

Pushing off the ground Ron pulled up far enough to see Harry run from one of the shops and straight into Draco.  They collided, falling into the fountain.  Harry sat on Draco's chest, and pointed his wand at Draco's heart. 

'What . . . doing.'

'The . . . us . . . merge . . . gifts  . . .' 

'Only . . . kill me.'

'Plan  . . .' 

'Three . . . curse  . . .' 

'Won't . . . merged.'

' . . . '

None of their broken conversation made sense to Ron.  He wanted to scream but the vision trying to take him was too strong.  He watched as Harry smashed Draco's head back against the stone. 

"You've betrayed us from the start!" said Harry.  "You were just waiting to hand us over to them!" 

"So what if I was?" 

Somewhere Ron thought Narcissa called Harry a foolish boy, but it didn't register, because at that moment, both Harry and Draco raised their wands.  In unison, they cried, "Avada Kedavra," and green light shot from both wands.  The light didn't go far; both bodies absorbed the rays, and Harry wavered, crashing to the ground, his wand rolling from his open palm. 

Draco sat up, soaked, and peered to where Harry lay.  His face set blank, but the silence broke.  At their struggle, everything else died, but Blaise cried out, rushing to fall beside Harry's body.  His movement broke the reverie, and the Death Eaters were on him.  Just as fast, Draco moved from the fountain, scanning around the shops. 

'Ron?'

'Tailor shop,' Ron replied, and Draco's eyes fell on his.  

Gathering what strength he could, Ron pulled his body up.  He tried to forget the pains screaming inside, the vision that was fighting to control him.  Ron ran across the battle space, threw his body over Harry's, and defended with every curse he remembered.  With the one look from Draco, Ron knew it was important that Harry be preserved. 

The Death Eaters retreated to the fountain, and then they were gone. 

Ron pulled back, laying on his side and staring at Harry.  He looked so healthy, so alive, and reminded Ron of Moody's (Crouch Jr.'s) class in fourth year with the spiders.  Harry lay just as unmarked, just as dead as the spider.  Draco collapsed behind him. 

"Just a few minutes and then we can go," said Draco. 

"What?" 

"I need to rest and so does Potter.  The killing curse takes a lot out of you." 

"Harry --"

"I'm not dead," said Harry. 

"We'll explain, just --"

"Not now," said Harry. 

"Not now." 

"But --"

"Just a few minutes and then we can go." 

Draco's head dropped to the ground and Harry inhaled, sharp and deep, his eyes squinted. 

"Where's Blaise?" 

"He's gone, Potter.  They've got him." 


	20. Wherein Things Need to be Explained

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Rating: R**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Yes, I own Harry Potter.  In fact, he's tied to my bed right now, arching his back, and . . . er—never mind.**

**Chapter Twenty:  Wherein Things Need to be Explained**

Boxes of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frog wrappers lay sprawled around Harry and Ron.  From outside the window, countryside rolled by.  Sitting in Ron's lap, Scabbers slept with his tail draping off Ron's thigh. 

Dark, eerie light played menacing shadows off the walls.  Large, life-size chess pieces loomed around them, and Ron's knees shook beneath him as the white queen approached.  If he continued to breathe, the oxygen didn't reach his brain.  Ron couldn't string together any coherent thoughts other than it was hard to breathe and he was going to die. 

Bile rose in Ron's throat as he tried to keep the food in his stomach and the urine in his bladder.  Spiders clicked and crawled.  He huddled closer to Harry, whispering his name, trying to scream but unable to make the sounds.  Every limb was cold and numb, frozen to his heart. 

Excruciating pain shot through his body.  White spots blinked before his eyes and blinded him, the pain too great to endure.  He held on to Harry, staring through those bursts of light at Sirius Black.  Hermione did most of the work in holding Harry back; Ron couldn't stand on his own. 

Ron sat between Hermione and Cho Chang in McGonagall's office.  She said something about the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, about being the thing Harry would miss the most.  Hermione's voice droned into his ears but Ron was incapable of understanding, too busy trying to comprehend meaning that much to Harry. 

Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams faced off, Malfoy and Harry snarling in each other's faces.  Ron abandoned them, walking from the pitch.  "Weasley is Our King" repeated in his head, and Ron felt his face turn red to the tips of his ears.  Not even the Cleansweep Eleven could help his abysmal Quidditch skills. 

The fire died in the hearth, crackling on low embers.  Only the dim light from the dying fire and dusk filtrated into the Gryffindor common room.  Harry sat on a squishy armchair, staring at Ron and Hermione.  He told them he was gay.  Ron fell off his chair. 

Ron sat slumped in the back of a classroom as Professor Valmont stared at Blaise, listening to him explain the Prophecy of the Four Mages.  Harry doodled on his parchment while Hermione transcribed Blaise's words.  Across the room, Malfoy twirled a quill in his fingers, his chin resting on a fist. 

Wind whipped around Ron as he lay on the cold, hard ground, his arms wrapped around Draco's body.  Skin meshed with skin and made it impossible to tell which limbs belonged to whom.  Ron raked his fingers through Draco's hair and pressed their foreheads together. 

Curses and jets of light flew around the Great Hall; people falling all around him.  Narcissa orchestrated the Death Eaters; the second blonde girl faced off with Professor Leiss.  Hex after hex hit Draco, and his body absorbed them without any distinguishable effect.  

Sitting next to Draco on the Hogwarts Express, Ron wrapped his arms around Draco.  Across, a girl with long, messy hair doodled on the cover of the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7.  Hermione knitted, probably working on a hat for a house elf.  Blaise opened the compartment door, walked in, and collapsed between the girls.

*

"I think he's coming out of it." 

Ron blinked, opened his eyes, and looked for the voice.  His body ached; the cold ground pressed upon it without mercy.  Draco walked into view, sitting by his head, and soft, velvety droplets trickled down his face. 

"Had a vision?" said Draco. 

"I wouldn't call it a vision.  I mean . . . it was scenes.  They flashed through my mind." 

"What were the scenes about?" 

"They were stuff that's already happened . . . except the end.  That stuff hasn't happened." 

"That's interesting." 

"Where's Harry?" 

"I'm right here."  Harry crouched before Ron.  "Don't worry about me.  You know you aren't supposed to fight visions.  You could pass out when you do that." 

"I had to.  I couldn't let myself fall into one when the Death Eaters attacked us." 

"True." 

"What happened?" 

"Now's not the time," said Draco.  "We have to get out of here.  Potter and I have some strength back, and you're better at recovering from visions.  That'll be enough to get out, but we need to stop somewhere and rest for the night.  I vote Weasley Manor.  I don't think mine is safe." 

"I agree," said Harry.  "We'll explain as soon as we're settled.  We don't have time to waste." 

"We've wasted more than we can afford." 

"All right.  Let's get out of here." 

Ron sat up, wincing, and held his head.  It throbbed from the fighting, his eyes pulsating in rhythm with his head.  Draco hoisted him to his feet.  They stood in the marketplace, and the water that dampened his hairline came from the fountain.  Religious and sacrilegious, Ron didn't know what to make of it. 

Drudging back, Draco led them down the main road to the palace.  Instead of turning back to Alecto's Tower, they continued past the oracle path and through the palace gates.  Now it was three instead of four, and Ron wanted to reach out for Harry to reassure him.  Instead, he drew into himself, and followed into the dungeons. 

It took some searching, but they came upon a sloping, uphill climb.  Ron's calves, thighs, and arse already felt taut and aching, but he forced them to work as they traveled out of the darkness.  Perspiration beaded on his skin and Ron felt dizzy.  He groped the wall beside him, balancing with Draco in front and Harry behind.  Once or twice, Ron felt the ground shift beneath his feet, and he imagined the horrible fall to his death.  It was the kind of paranoia he'd share with Draco and Harry if one of their number hadn't just been taken by the enemy. 

They emerged in the Weasley Manor dungeons.  Ron saw it enough times playing hide and seek as a child with the twins to know.  He used to like it down here until Fred told him spiders as big as quaffles lived there.  After Aragog, spiders the size of quaffles, while not pleasant, were at least tolerable. 

House elves milled around, and Ron found one as soon as they came out on the ground level.  He demanded to see his grandparents and the little elf squeaked, leading the three through winding corridors.  They stood outside Maddock Weasley's study again, and the elf knocked.  Doris opened the door, took one look at the boys (her eyes lingered on Ron's and Draco's hair), and ushered them inside.  She ordered the elf to return to his duties. 

"Where's the other one?" 

"The Death Eaters took him," said Ron. 

"Death Eaters?  What happened?  We received a visit from Rebekah Leiss looking for you.  Told her you had been here but we didn't know where you went." 

"We got into Absconditus," said Draco. 

"And started the fountain," said Harry. 

"Then Death Eaters jumped out of it and tried to kill us," said Ron. 

"We need somewhere to sleep tonight," said Draco.  "To rest up.  We're heading back to Hideout B in the morning." 

"I'll take you," said Maddock.  He sat behind his desk, his fingers pressed together.  "We'll fly.  Got a few brooms you boys can borrow.  You've had enough walking and its a long way from here." 

"Rebekah told us how to get there if you came back," said Doris. 

"Thank you," said Ron.  "That'll help.  I can't go into everything that happened.  I don't even really know yet." 

"That's fine, dear.  Sleep wherever you like.  I'll send a house elf with you to prepare you beds." 

"That isn't necessary, but thank you.  We can do it ourselves." 

"Whatever you wish.  If you need anything, just ask.  I'll get you up in the morning so you can have breakfast and get an early start on your return." 

"Thank you," said Ron. 

"Thanks," said Harry. 

"Me, too," said Draco. 

"Don't mention it.  Now get going." 

Ron, Harry, and Draco stood from their chairs and filed out the door.  Doris closed it behind them, and they wound through the passages.  After going up the staircase, Ron found the room he and Draco shared last time and walked in. 

"Harry, you can take one, and Draco and I will share the other." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah.  We promise not to do anything sexual or dirty with you in the room." 

"Thank you." 

Harry dropped on one of the beds, throwing his bag on the floor.  Dust settled in his hair while dirt and grime climbed across his skin.  The bag didn't look much better, lying in tatters and tears on the ground.  Books and parchment poked out of holes in the material. 

"Can someone please explain what happened?" said Ron. 

"The fountains were connected and when we started the Absconditus fountain, the Death Eaters were able to travel through the Death Eater fountain," said Draco. 

"I knew that.  I meant between you two.  Harry accused you of being a traitor.  You admitted it.  Then you used the killing curse on each other.  I thought you were dead, Harry.  You both got hit.  I saw you get hit." 

"Draco can't kill me," said Harry.  "I'm the only one who can kill Voldemort.  He's the only one who can kill me." 

"And you relied on that?  What if you were wrong?" 

"Then I was as good as dead anyway.  Hurt like hell, though." 

"But how did you know that?" he said, pointing to Draco. 

"The telepathy.  When Potter attacked me, he explained his theory and his plan." 

"Which was . . ." 

"To make it look like I was traitor.  Throw the Death Eaters off and have time to escape.  Pretend Harry was dead to keep him from getting seriously injured." 

"What about you?" 

Draco frowned, looking around the room.  He seized a trinket from the bureau, smashed it, and dug the porcelain into his forearm.  It gashed through his skin, making a deep red line.  Blood oozed for a few seconds and Ron's heart dropped to his stomach.  He left out a soft shriek, but Harry laid a hand on his shoulder. 

"Just wait," said Harry. 

"Are you crazy?" said Ron. 

"Watch." 

The blood beaded on his arm, and then stopped running.  Draco ripped off a piece of his tattered shirt and wiped away the blood.  The skin was pale and unmarked. 

"I'm immortal," said Draco.  "It only hurts for a second." 

"But . . . but you weren't.  Last night you were sick and we had to carry you --"

"And I'm not sick now.  From the minute that fountain started running . . . didn't you feel it?  It was like being smacked over the head.  My headache went away.  My stomach didn't hurt.  I could breathe through my nose." 

"But you didn't know.  I mean --"

"When my mother was strangling me, I had difficulty breathing, but the oxygen I already had in me lasted a lot longer than it should've.  I only felt a little dizzy when she let me go." 

"But you were shaking!" 

"I was afraid.  I didn't know for sure until then.  The killing curse can't kill me if I can't die.  She knows now, too.  I made sure she saw I got hit with the curse and that it didn't kill me.  It threw her off balance more than anything." 

"We merged into our gifts," said Harry.  "That's why you got hit with a vision right away." 

"What about Blaise?  Couldn't he stop it?  Can't he affect time?" 

Harry crossed his arms and rocked into himself. 

"He should've.  Now they've got him and I don't know what to do." 

"We'll figure it out," said Draco.  "We're going back to Hideout B tomorrow.  They'll be able to help us.  Let's just go to bed for now.  We all need it.  It's been a trying day."

*

It seemed too soon when Doris opened the curtains and light fell upon the sleeping boys.  Maddock was quiet through most of breakfast.  After showering and dressing in clean clothes, they mounted the brooms that awaited them. 

Harry commented that flying with Maddock was something like flying with Moody.  Between avoiding the watchful eyes of Muggles and checking around to determine no one was following them, they found a place in the mountains to set down.  Harry looked around as he dismounted. 

"Hideout B is around here?" 

"Hideout B is a hold in the ground," said Draco.  "It's the most inhabitable place you can imagine.  I loved it there." 

"Me, too," said Ron. 

"Where's the entrance?" said Maddock. 

"Are you staying?" said Ron. 

"I'm here to do what I can.  May as well offer to help." 

"Well, the entrance is this way." 

They followed a narrow passage on one of the upper cliffs, rounding a bend, and Ron disappeared through a crevice.  Leading into the ground, Harry, Draco, and Maddock slipped through the hole. 

Oil lamps hung around the large room and candles flickered.  A large, long table filled a great deal of the room's space, and parchment, quills, and inkwells littered the table surface.  Sofas and chairs were scattered at random in a sort of chaotic order.  People crowded the room, all of whom looked to the entering party. 

"Ron!" cried a familiar voice, and a frantic head of red hair threw herself into Ron.  "What happened to your hair?" 

"Ginny, you're suffocating me." 

"Someone get Professor Snape," said Hermione, as she threw herself on Harry. 

"I'll go," said Kerry Daubert, but it was unnecessary.  All the commotion must have drawn their attention because Snape, Phoenix, Professor Leiss, and Ron's parents all came out from the corridor leading to the Potions laboratory. 

"You're back," said Mrs. Weasley.  She rushed at Ron first, then Harry, wrapping both boys in hugs.  She looked at Draco, covered her mouth with her hand, and then hugged him, too. 

"I've been worried sick," said Phoenix, taking over where Mrs. Weasley left off.  Draco frowned, trying to push his brother away. 

"Do you have any idea how foolish you've been?" said Snape. 

"Let off for a second, will you?" said Leiss.  "They're here and they're healthy." 

"Where is Mr. Zabini?" 

"The Death Eaters took him," said Harry.  His face twisted and Leiss's hand flew to her chest. 

"Oh, Harry . . ." 

"How did the Death Eaters get him?" said Snape.  "What were you doing around Death Eaters?" 

"Give them time to settle in," said Mrs. Weasley.  "Maddock, thank you for bringing them back." 

"They planned on coming back anyway.  All I did was help." 

"Let's all take a seat and breathe for a moment, shall we?" said Leiss.  "Gather our thoughts.  Then we can hear what they boys have to say." 

"They should rest first," said Mrs. Weasley. 

"There isn't time for that," said Harry.  "The less time they have Blaise the better." 

"He's right," said Phoenix.  "Let's all sit down like Rebekah suggested." 

Everyone took a seat around the long table keeping at one end.  Snape folded his hands, resting them on the table before him. 

"When you're ready." 

"We went to our manors," said Draco. 

"We gathered that much from the Weasleys and Zabinis.  Why?" said Snape. 

"To find Absconditus.  We wanted to research and talk to Grandfather since he knows more about the legend than anyone.  That's what everyone kept saying.  We have to find Absconditus and stop Yo -- Voldemort," said Ron.  His face twisted.  Most at the table winced, but Harry and Draco grinned. 

"After we found Cane's journal and the first piece of the map, we got the map pieces from the Zabini and Potter manors," said Draco.  "We broke into the town hall for my piece and Terence's journal.  Once we had the exact prophecy and all our pieces . . . well, we opened up the vault door and entered." 

"You went into Absconditus?" said Phoenix.  "You found it?  Was it beneath Hogwarts?" 

"Malfoy City," said Harry. 

"Perdere," said Maddock. 

"Right.  Sorry." 

"We came out in the oracle's tower," said Draco. 

"My place," said Leiss.  He stared at her. 

"We told her when you disappeared," said Phoenix.  "She needed to know." 

"Wait," said Harry.  "You're Alecto?"

"Yeah, I was.  Are you surprised?  I didn't remember.  How could I?  I've been reborn over and over again since ancient Rome.  It's hard to keep track of all your lives." 

"Which circle are you from?" said Hermione. 

"Coronae Romana.  My creation name was Livia." 

"Are you really?  I've read all about you.  Your circle was involved in the Keeper Civil War of 1174." 

"That's us." 

"Can we please keep to the subject?" said Snape. 

"Sorry, Sev." 

Snape looked at Leiss, deep frown lines creasing at the corners of his eyes and between his forehead.  She looked to the side, and a hesitant smile broke out on her face.  He shook his head and looked back to Draco. 

"So you came out into the tower.  Then?" 

"We explored," said Draco, shrugging.  "Went to the palace.  Slept.  Then in the morning we went down to the fountain.  Added our blood like we were supposed to.  The fountain started.  We merged with our gifts.  Ron and I merged with ourselves, too.  Can you tell?" 

"Is that what happened to your hair?" said Ginny.  "Is that what you looked like when you were Ryan?" 

"I think so," said Ron.  "I mean, Draco looks like Bade." 

"Did this happen to Blaise?" said Hermione. 

"Is it going to happen to Harry?" said Ginny, trying not to laugh. 

"Blaise looked the same," said Ron.  "I don't know about Harry." 

"The subject, Weasley," said Snape. 

"Sorry." 

"Anyway," said Draco, "we merged.  I'm immortal.  Only Voldemort can kill Harry.  We have a telepathic connection to each other." 

"Fun, isn't it?" said Leiss.  "It's like having multiple personalities that you're aware of.  I love it.  I'm never lonely.  There's always someone I can talk to." 

"Ours wasn't like that, though.  It got fuzzy if we weren't looking at each other." 

"That's because it's not a natural connection.  I put it on you.  When you merged with your powers, you must have merged with that, too." 

"Where did these Death Eaters come in?" said Phoenix. 

"When we opened the fountain, we opened the connection to the Fountain of Innocent Blood." 

"They traveled through the fountains?" said Snape. 

"Yeah.  Harry and I created a diversion.  He accused me of being traitor and then we set the killing curse on each other.  I can't kill him because I'm not Voldemort and he can't kill me because I'm immortal.  Harry pretended to be dead and then Ron kept him from the Death Eaters while I fought them back into the fountain.  They got Blaise before we could get rid of them." 

"You shouldn't have gone off without telling us," said Snape.  "It was reckless and foolhardy." 

"We have our powers, though," said Harry.  "They can't get those." 

"They can if they kill you." 

"They can't kill me," said Draco.  "You said Absconditus was the next step so we took it.  Anyway, it worked for now." 

"You're a Mage short!  Of all the irresponsible . . ." 

"Sev, relax," said Leiss.  "We have a bit of a problem.  That's okay.  We can work this." 

"Always the optimist," said Phoenix. 

"I've gotten out of bigger binds." 

"Name one," said Snape. 

She frowned, shaking her head.  "I can do this.  This is workable.  We had bad planning.  That's all.  This can be fixed." 

"So goes the mantra of a Keeper," said Phoenix.  "She's always like this.  Any problem that arises, Rebekah insists it can be fixed.  Anything is workable with the Keepers on it." 

"And don't you forget it." 

"I honestly don't see how you're going to fix this," said Snape. 

"We have to look at the facts and work with them.  From what we know, the Death Eaters don't know what to think.  On one hand, Harry's accused Draco of being a traitor, but Draco fought them off.  Voldemort will know that Harry isn't dead with their connection.  If we can find a way to make Voldemort think that Draco's on their side . . ." 

Leiss trailed off, chewed her lower lip, and her eyes lit up.  It was like watching a complicated arithmetic problem being figured behind her eyes.  She was there and not there, and she murmured under her breath as if talking to someone. 

"I hate that look," said Phoenix.  "She gets that look when she's got an idea, and her ideas are never good." 

"Well, Harry's gift is strength, right?" said Leiss. 

"We don't know what kind of strength," said Ron. 

"No, not you.  Do you think that'll work?  I mean, we aren't sure that's what it means?"  Leiss paused.  "I know, but there hasn't been any real, corporeal proof.  For all we know, we could be completely wrong.  I'm stabbing in the dark." 

"Telepathy," said Snape.  "It's a Keeper thing.  It's annoying." 

"I think it's fascinating," said Phoenix.  "She's having a conversation with someone while they aren't even near her?  Who is it?  Holden?" 

"I don't have a connection to Holden, and stop interrupting." 

"Fine.  Be that way."  Phoenix pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.  Leiss glanced to him, and stuck out her tongue. 

"What are you talking about?" said Harry.  "If it's about me, I think I have a right to know." 

"We've got an idea, but I don't think you're going to like it." 

"What?" 

"Your mother sacrificed herself for you, right?" 

"Yes." 

"And that's why you've been immune to Voldemort's power.  That's why it backfired?" 

"Yes." 

"And your gift is strength, only we don't know what kind of strength it is.  Obviously it isn't physical strength, I mean, look at you." 

"Thanks." 

"Where are you going with this?" said Ron. 

"Honestly, Becky, would you get on with it already?" said Snape.  "You can run around in circles longer than Lucius." 

"Or Voldemort, for that manner," said Phoenix.  Everyone stared.  "What?  He's very long-winded." 

"Well," said Leiss, "we think it's a strength of heart.  Wills and determination.  Who is willing to give more for a victory.  Harry, according to your prophecy, you're to have a power that the Dark Lord knows not.  He knows nothing about caring for something so much that you'd be willing to sacrifice anything." 

"What does that mean?" said Harry. 

"Bloody hell," said Draco.  "You want Potter to sacrifice himself?  That's what you're saying, isn't it?  Potter has to die for the cause." 

"What?" said Harry.  "I don't want to die." 

"Well," said Leiss, "I mean, it isn't for sure . . ." 

"Becky, the short version," said Snape. 

"If Harry's strength is the power of sacrifice, then by Harry sacrificing himself and dying, it should reverse.  It'd be a sort of resurrection, I suppose.  Voldemort should die by Harry's sacrifice, and in turn, that should bring Harry back."

"But you aren't sure," said Harry.  "I could die, and Voldemort would still be alive, and that would be it." 

"It shouldn't go that way.  I mean, we've been discussing possible ways for you to kill him since before you ran off, and this is the only thing we kept coming back to." 

"Come up with something else."  Harry shoved his chair back and it toppled to the floor with a loud thud.  "I don't want to die for the wizarding world.  I've done enough for it and they keep asking for more.  Come up with another way.  I'll do whatever I can but I won't die.  It isn't fair.  They've got Blaise and I'm not going to give myself up, too." 

Harry charged from the room and into the classroom corridor.  Ron knew he wouldn't get far.  Harry hadn't been to Hideout B before.  If he had, he'd know that there wasn't as much room to hide that way as the other corridor. 

Leiss leaned back into her chair, laced her fingers, and let her hands fall to the top of the table. 

"That went well.  Better than I expected."

"Does she ever shut up?" said Draco.

"No," said Phoenix and Snape.

Leiss grinned, shrugged.  No one made to move and Ron stood.

"I'm going to talk to Harry."

"Let him cool off.  I expected more than that.  He needs it to sink in that it's the only way.  If Harry wants to have any chance, he's going to have to die."


	21. Forgive Me, Father, for I Have Sinned

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Rating: R**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Summary: Wherein Harry suffers, Draco lies, Blaise doesn't know what's going on, and all Ron can do is sit by and watch.  There's some gross stuff, too.**

**I am not J.K., though I torture her characters almost as much.**

**I have no reason for updating yesterday other than I forgot it was Tuesday.**

****

**_Chapter Twenty-One:  Forgive Me, Father, For I Have Sinned_**

Ron sat on the edge of the fountain and stared at Leiss.  No one said a word before leaving, but the tension mounted until Ron wanted to scream.  Without Draco and Harry, the pressure eased off, but it still strung thin in his mind.  He hated The Plan, and he didn't know how to remain calm when he had no active part in it.  There was nothing to do but to sit here, watch, and wait.

Once Harry steamed and simmered, he reentered the meeting room.  For a while, he stood there staring at the rest.  Then, quietly, he agreed to The Plan.  At first, Ron didn't believe his ears.  Harry would never agree to sacrifice his life, chance death.  No one objected.  No one stopped to say that maybe it was a bad idea.  What if Harry didn't live?  The odds were great that Harry would remain dead.  There was no proof this was going to work, and yet no one argued when Harry agreed. 

He felt the determination radiate off Harry once the decision was made.  There was no changing his mind.  Ron could testify; he tried.  It killed him to think Harry was going to stand before the Death Eaters, open his arms, and invite Voldemort to take his life.  He felt sick, unnerved, and it didn't help that Leiss wasn't quite as confident as Harry.  Her face remained calm and unmoved, but it had been she, herself, that taught Ron to feel out a person's emotions, and her fear drove Ron to insanity. 

The Plan went as this:  Draco and Harry would go to Hogwarts and seek out the Death Eaters.  Harry would be bound and under the full body-bind to keep up the illusions of Draco turned traitor.  Using the preliminary Dark Mark that continued to mar Draco's arm, he would confess to being "astray" but that he found his sense, and wanted to come back to the Death Eaters.  He understood that he would not be trusted, and was willing to prove his loyalty.  As a peace offering, he brought Harry, and wanted to see their Master. 

Headquarters were at the Slytherin Manor, or so Draco presumed, because that was where the Fountain of Innocent Blood was located.  If the Death Eaters bought into Draco's story (which he presumed they would, as most weren't much brighter than Crabbe and Goyle when it came to reasoning), he'd be led there.  Ron thought they should just go to the manor straight away, but Draco wasn't sure how to find it, and it was unplottable.  Draco also insisted they go through the proper channels, because so long as it was done in Voldemort's preferred manner, they could keep the upper hand.  Any sign of trickery would kill them immediately. 

Once at the Slytherin Manor, Draco would speak with Voldemort.  He'd offer Harry, do whatever they asked to prove himself, and allow Voldemort to kill Harry.  If things went the way Leiss hypothesized, then once Harry was dead, the magic of revenge and Harry's unknown strength should reverse the spell, kill Voldemort, and bring Harry back to life.  If things didn't go as Leiss predicted . . . that was something that Ron refused to think about. 

After Draco and Harry left Hideout B for Hogwarts, Leiss packed and made Ron lead her to Absconditus.  Once Voldemort was dead, Harry and Draco would need to get Blaise and make a quick getaway.  They'd use the Fountain of Innocent Blood for return, and Leiss insisted they be there when everything happened.  In the meantime, she initiated a telepathic connection between the three and herself; she couldn't contact Blaise. 

Now he sat in Absconditus by Fontis de Ortus Lux Lucis with little to say.  Leiss told him of a way to watch what was happening, a projection used by Keepers to keep watch on each other. 

"Alexis showed me," said Leiss, sneering.  "Before . . ." 

She wouldn't elaborate.  The spell was a mental astral projection of her telepathic connection since she was stronger than they.  All Ron could do was watch the two-dimensional scene play out on the fountain water.  He wanted to help, to do something, but Leiss forbid him.  It would only interfere, look strange, and it was something that Draco and Harry needed to do on their own. 

Ron watched the scene move before him.  In the time it took Leiss and Ron to arrive in Absconditus, it took just as long for Harry and Draco to arrive at Hogwarts.  The school looked like nothing Ron had ever seen before; it bore no resemblance to the place Ron called home for close to ten months of the year.  The first obstacle presented itself before Harry and Draco made it onto Hogwarts grounds; the Death Eaters set up wards that could not be penetrated.  Ron knew this, had read it in the _Daily Prophet_ weeks ago, but forgot their entrance was prohibited. 

Some alarm must have been set up in the castle.  Draco spent no more than five minutes contemplating how to enter when Crabbe and Goyle (just their luck) came out to investigate.  From years of playing leader, Draco knew how to manipulate them, and played them to perfection with his story.  Their hesitation was natural, but short-lived; no sooner had they rebutted Draco's argument than he shoved the Mark in their face. 

"If I was lying, would this still be here?" said Draco.  They stood on opposite sides of Hogwarts gates, Harry lying motionless on the ground beside him.  "You know as well as I do that this is supposed to go away when one turns from the Dark Lord.  Mine is still here.  I'm on your side.  I've seen the error of my ways." 

Crabbe and Goyle conferred, turned from Draco, but talked loud enough that Ron had no troubles deciphering their conversation.  Part of Ron always thought they couldn't be as stupid as everyone made them out to be, but it was hard to back up when they did things like this.  Why would you turn away and yet not bother to lower your voice?  The Death Eaters should reconsider who they sent out to investigate strange breeches on the wards. 

"We shouldn't take him," said Crabbe.  "You know what Narcissa said. Under no circumstances." 

"But she thinks his Mark has gone.  He has a point," said Goyle.  "It should have gone away.  Why would it still be there?" 

"How should I know?  Wouldn't it have gone away when he refused?  Why would it never go away if Draco admits to have once been on Dumbledore's side?" 

"Maybe he was never on their side.  Maybe he just thought he was." 

"And maybe I'm still standing here," said Draco.  They turned and regarded him with suspicion, confusing twisting their large, ugly faces.  Heavy, thick brows knitted together, though it was hard to tell as they were mostly one in the first place. 

"How stupid _are_ these boys?" said Leiss. 

"I have yet to determine," said Ron. 

"I'll take him," said Crabbe, his voice floating out of the water.  "Don't tell Narcissa.  Keep her occupied.  She'll want to know where I am.  Tell her I'm dealing with one of the first years who tried to run away.  It wouldn't be the first time one of them's slipped out." 

"Why don't they detain the first years?" said Ron. 

"Where are they going?  They can't get off the grounds," said Leiss.  "To watch over them would make more work." 

"Good point." 

Ron watched as Crabbe led Draco and Harry away from Hogwarts grounds, through Hogsmeade, and into the hills of Scotland.  His palms itched and Ron tried to scratch them, but the sweat stuck his skin together and intensified the sensation.  Leiss peered at him, frowned, and knocked Ron's arms to his sides. 

It seemed to Ron that they walked forever.  With each passing step, the bile churned louder in his stomach, and his throat grew tighter.  It got harder to breathe, and he watched Draco and Harry, his eyes passing between them.  He wanted to reach out, wrap his arms around Draco and make him safe.  He wanted his best friend by his side, laughing.  Draco carried Harry to certain death, and whether he would come out of it could not be determined.  If Harry faltered, Ron would never forgive himself. 

They wound through the mountains and came close to Hideout B.  It was almost amusing, and Ron could see it in Draco's eyes, that the Death Eaters passed right over Hideout B without knowing who lived beneath.  The glimmer in Draco's eyes was nice, enough to hold Ron over, and he felt the oxygen fill his lungs again.  It was cool, soothing, and the pressure eased in Ron's veins. 

A large, old house sat in a remote area of the mountains, atop a random peak.  There was nothing spectacular about it; it had neither the charm of Malfoy Manor nor the desolate abandon of Potter Manor.  It was an old house without elegance or grandeur.  A winding path led to the single door perched on a wrap-around porch.  The knocker was silver, a winding serpent, and Ron was reminded of the knocker at Grimmauld place.  Crabbe didn't bother to use it.  He opened the door and walked in, allowing Draco to follow.  Harry lay perched in Draco's thin, shaking arms. 

They walked into a low, torch-lit room.  It was bare save for the long table like the one in Hideout B.  Only a few hours ago had Ron sat around that table with Harry, and he hoped that one day he'd be able to again. 

"I thought you'd come for your friend," said Voldemort.  A chill skirted through Ron's body, and Leiss placed a hand on his lower back.  "Where's the other one?  The Alcor?" 

"Ron's not coming," said Draco.  "I'm not here for him.  I'm here on my own business." 

"He says he's seen the error of his ways," said Crabbe. 

"Let him speak for himself, Crabbe.  You know how I feel about interrupting." 

A simple Crucio spell and Crabbe lay twitching on the ground, his cries echoed in the room.  Voldemort paid no heed; he stared from Draco to Harry's prostrate, unmoving body.  He lifted the curse from Crabbe, and sent him away.  They were alone. 

"Is what he says true?" 

Draco held out his arms. 

"A peace offering, my master."  Draco bowed his head.  "I once turned from you.  I rebelled against my father, then.  I thought him weak and did not wish to follow in his footsteps.  Since he's died, I've realized that weak as he was, his path was the right one.  Those who follow Dumbledore are fools.  Your powers far surpass his own, Dark Lord." 

"Why the change of heart?" 

"You've pulled him out from under their very noses, and they're quite lost without him.  I've witnessed little but stumbling children since the escape.  I bided my time, waiting for the opportune moment." 

"Yet you fought against my loyal servants in the fallen city." 

"I had to, Master.  They would have killed me.  They did not know of my plan, but Potter saw through me." 

"They said you killed him.  Saw his body with their own eyes." 

"I cannot kill him, Master.  Only you have the power and ability." 

"You realize you will have to prove yourself?" 

"I'll do what I can, Master.  Anything you wish shall be my command." 

Ron couldn't breathe, couldn't scream as he watched Voldemort call the Cruciatus curse, and Draco fell to the ground.  A sneer twisted on Voldemort's face, his red eyes glittering beneath a hood of darkness.  When he lifted the curse, he shook his head. 

"Draco, you used to hold your pain better than that.  I'm disappointed.  To your feet." 

Harry lay disposed on the ground, but Draco struggled to stand.  Voldemort strode forward, seized Draco's arm, and ripped up the sleeve.  The Mark lay burned into his skin, exposed, and Voldemort grinned.  Ron wanted it to go away, wished to cut it off Draco's skin. 

"Osiris!  Tristan!  Hephastus!" 

The three Death Eaters from the Train Dream entered.  Brown Eyes, Rabid, and Tristan bowed, fell to their knees, and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.  Ron wondered what they were thinking. 

"Tristan, I need two vials and the dagger.  Hephastus, bring out the boy.  Osiris, stay here.  I need you to keep an eye on this one." 

Voldemort kicked Harry toward Rabid as Tristan and Brown Eyes left the room.  A sick grin stretched across Rabid's face, one so similar to his dream, and he bent down.  Whispered words bound Harry in conjured ropes and Voldemort lifted the body-bind. 

"I want to hear him scream," said Voldemort.  Draco smirked.  "That, however, will have to wait."  He turned to Draco.  "You come here so fearlessly.  Why is that?  Do you not fear me?" 

"I only wish to serve you, Master.  I have no doubts on my loyalty, and so I have nothing to fear.  I will prove myself to you." 

Tristan returned with two long, thin, cylindrical vials, and a dagger with a silver handle encrusted with rubies and emeralds.  Voldemort unscrewed the silver caps and held one out to Draco, the other to Rabid.  He passed Rabid the dagger. 

Rabid leaned down, took Harry's arm, and sliced into his skin.  A thin line separated his flesh, and blood beaded on the surface.  Tilting Harry's arm, Rabid held the vial beneath his wrist with one hand.  The other hand squeezed Harry's wrist, pushing the blood from its tunnels to slide over skin and into the glass.  Once filled, Rabid wiped the top with Harry's robes, bound Harry's hand to the other again, and replaced the cap.  Harry never screamed.  His wrist continued to bleed, staining the bonds. 

Voldemort wiped the dagger off on his own robes and passed it to Draco. 

"Fill your vial with blood." 

"Shit," said Leiss. 

"What?" said Ron. 

"Draco's immortal." 

"So?" 

"They're going to know." 

"Doesn't Narcissa already know?" 

"She's theorized, but Voldemort hasn't seen it for himself.  Draco, be careful." 

In the water image, Draco nodded.  He made one, quick slash, filled the vial as fast as he could, and ripped a piece of his robes.  Draco wrapped the cloth around his wrist, replaced the cap, and handed it to Voldemort. 

"That's three Mages down, and one to go.  Where's Alcor when you need him?" 

Ron pulled his wrist into his body. 

"Tristan, take those.  We'll need them to access Absconditus and take the gifts once they're gone."  Voldemort looked at Harry, fingered his wand.  "Potter -- Veriatice -- we've got a little gift for you.  You've been very good about hiding it until now, I must admit, but all good things must come to an end.  Hephastus?" 

Brown Eyes entered with several hooded Death Eaters.  Between them, they carried Blaise, bound and gagged.  His eyes grew huge and he stared between Harry and Draco.  Draco stared hard at him, and Blaise thrashed. 

"Draco's telling him about The Plan," said Leiss.  "I still can't get in contact with Blaise.  I wish he wouldn't have been taken." 

"That's why you wish he hadn't been taken?" said Ron.  She frowned. 

"I didn't mean it like that." 

"That was very bold of you to pretend to love Alcor," said Voldemort.  "No doubt, you care for the silly boy, but Alcor won't save you.  Did you honestly think you could hide an affair with Merak from me?" 

Blaise stared at Harry, struggled against his binds, and screamed against his gag.  It was for show, according to Leiss.  Blaise knew The Plan, though, and Ron doubted that Blaise's screams were for show.  He hated it just as much as Ron. 

"Draco, you wish to prove yourself, and now I command you," said Voldemort.  "You cannot kill Potter.  That job is mine, alone.  You can, however, kill Zabini." 

"Damn," said Leiss.  Draco's eyes grew wide.  "That's okay, that's okay.  So we didn't see that one coming.  We can work this." 

"How?" said Ron. 

"Not sure." 

Everything froze.  Voldemort didn't move; his hand stayed poised.  Draco gaped, unmoving, looking like a fool.  Harry lay still, as if the body-bind was place upon him again.  Only Blaise struggled against his binds.  Then, as quickly as it happened, Draco closed his mouth and gazed around.  He crossed the space between them, paused to stare at Voldemort, and then removed Blaise's gag. 

"Where did you learn to do that?" said Draco. 

"I've been practicing," said Blaise.  "Before we say anything else, I can't do this very long.  Hurry." 

"Hurry what?" 

"A plan, Malfoy.  What are you going to do?" 

"I don't know.  If I don't kill you, they'll find out about The Plan." 

"The Plan is terrible, and I won't let you do it." 

"How will you stop it?  I've got to kill you to work The Plan." 

"Would you stop fighting?" said Leiss.  "Blaise just said you don't' have much time." 

"Well what do you propose?" said Draco.  He turned around in the water screen, looking for some source to speak to.  "Don't you know what to do?  Aren't you a Seer?  You should have bloody Seen this coming." 

"Who are you talking to?" said Blaise. 

"Rebekah.  Alecto.  Professor Leiss." 

"How?" 

"No time for explanations." 

"Well, if you're going to attack her, then I'm attacking Weasley.  He's no help, running around reading Latin, too busy to foresee that you're going to have to murder me --"

"Oh, piss off, Zabini.  If you'd have just honed your power before you were kidnapped, we wouldn't be here right now.  Can't you turn back time?" 

"What good are you?  Just because you're immortal doesn't mean that we all are." 

"Wait," said Ron, "don't you have the power to affect souls?  I remember, Draco said . . . Keepers, they can control souls." 

"A soul, yes," said Leiss, "but not bodies." 

"That doesn't matter.  Can't you just send Blaise's soul somewhere?  Keep him alive while his body is murdered?" 

"He'd have no body, though.  He'd try to come back, but his body would be dead.  He'd be a shadow." 

"But Blaise would be alive.  All we'd need is a body to store him in." 

"And what do you suggest, wise one?"  Leiss paused, her eyes glittering and lips pulling into a kind of smirk.  "I have an idea." 

"This isn't like the last one, is it?" 

"No.  Blaise won't actually have to die." 

"That _is_ an improvement." 

"Draco, do you know of a spell called The Death Spell?" 

"The _what_!" said Draco.  "I thought you said we don't have to actually kill Zabini." 

"Excuse me?" said Blaise. 

"You don't.  The Death Spell is most commonly known from a Muggle play called 'Romeo and Juliet,' though it was a potion in that.  It puts the affected into a sleep so deep that it appears to be death.  Your pulse slows down so much that it can't even be felt.  It works instantly, though, so we'd have to execute this carefully. 

"What I think should happen is this:  Blaise unfreezes time.  When that happens, Draco agrees to kill Blaise.  He raises his wand, says the killing curse, and as the light is streaming through the air, Blaise freezes time.  Draco puts The Death Spell on him, I take Blaise's soul from his body, and I put him in Harry.  Harry can just hang around while Blaise unfreezes time again.  The killing curse hits Blaise, they check to see if he's dead, and they think he is because of The Death Spell." 

"Wouldn't that still kill him?" said Ron. 

"Not if Draco doesn't mean it.  Light would still emit from the wand but would have little to no effect.  Maybe a nosebleed or something because Draco is capable of performing the curse.  You need to have the hate to back up the words." 

"She's right," said Draco.  "It would look like the killing curse, but it wouldn't have the same effects if I didn't want them to." 

"Once that happens, I can put Harry back in his own body.  Blaise go back to his body until Voldemort's dead, and then Draco should take off The Death Spell.  All three of you jump into the fountain.  Don't wait around.  The Death Eaters will be confused at first with Voldemort dead, but they'll recover fast enough.  Use that time to take The Death Spell off." 

"I've never even practiced this spell before," said Draco. 

"What's going on?" said Blaise.  Draco explained. 

"You can do it.  Just believe you can." 

"What's the incantation?" said Draco. 

"To put it on is Ad Mortem Dare.  To take it off is Almum." 

"Okay." 

Draco explained, put the gag on Blaise, and they parted.  Resuming position, everyone began to move again.  Voldemort's hand dropped and Draco steeled himself, his spine straightening.  He plucked his wand from his pocket and pointed it at Blaise. 

"Sorry, Zabini, but my loyalties don't lie with fool, slave-lovers like yourself.  _Avada__ Kedavra_." 

The jet of green light burst from Draco's wand and poised between them.  Draco unfroze, swung his wand a second time, and cried, "_Ad Mortem Dare_."  A jet of blue light burst from his wand, flew into Blaise's body, and then he crumpled.  Leiss's face scrunched up; she chewed on her lower lip. 

"He's out," said Leiss.  A few seconds later, she said, "And so is Harry.  Draco, get ready." 

Everything burst back to life.  The green light flew into Blaise's body.  Harry, who laid calm at first, now struggled, screamed, and appeared to be back in his own body.  He cursed at Draco, fought to get free.  Voldemort's cold, chilling laugh filled the room. 

"Hephastus, check to see if he is still alive." 

Brown Eyes grabbed at Blaise's healing wrist where blood had been taken. 

"No pulse." 

Voldemort nodded. 

"Draco, that was very brave of you.  You have proven yourself, and you've brought me Harry Potter as well.  Lucius could have never done such an admirable job." 

"I told you we could handle it," said Leiss.  "And you doubted me." 

"How do you do it?" said Ron. 

"Honestly, I get curve balls like that thrown at me all the time.  Me and my circle have been very good at working around them." 

In the water, the images blurred together for a moment, and then the colors separated again.  Draco's face bled into an indistinguishable myriad as the water flowed, but righted itself.  Voldemort turned on Harry, any previous exchange lost in the shifting of the water.  His wand trained on Harry and Draco stood off to the side.  This was it.  Harry would die or live, and Ron wanted to turn away but found that he couldn't.  All there was left to do was sit and stare as Voldemort swung his wand high in the air and called out, "_Avada__ Kedavra_!" 

All strain stopped.  Harry fell flaccid against the Death Eaters that he earlier struggled with.  His head lolled back, his mouth parted, and Voldemort's laughter echoed off the Absconditus walls.  The fountain stopped flowing.  Ron's head felt hazy and confused, and a razor of pain shot through his body.  Harry was dead. 

"There's nothing left to do now but wait," said Leiss.  "I'm not sure how this is going to go."

*

Ron stared at his watch.  Four minutes and thirty-two seconds, four minutes and thirty-five seconds, four minutes and forty seconds since Harry died and nothing changed about the scene.  Voldemort walked to Harry himself, checked for a pulse, and certified him dead.  Ron knew it was coming -- that it had to happen -- but it didn't make it easier.  He might never speak to his best friend again.  His throat felt too tight to breathe. 

"Now, for a little insurance," said Voldemort. 

"Insurance?" said Leiss.  "What is that supposed to mean?" 

"Tristan, the dagger.  Osiris, removed the gag and binds.  Potter isn't going anywhere." 

"Is insurance really necessary?" said Draco.  "I mean, like you said, Potter isn't going anywhere.  Isn't killing him enough?" 

"I've worked too long for this to let Potter off with a simple killing curse, don't you agree, Draco?  Unless, of course, you have something else up your sleeve?" 

"Nothing, Master." 

"I didn't think you'd question my judgment." 

"Never, Master." 

"You know, Draco, that's a very good act you put on earlier, and I thank you.  I don't know what you have planned, but I assure you that it isn't going to work." 

"Pardon, Master?" 

Voldemort seized Draco's arm, turned it over, and ripped off the makeshift bandage.  Beneath, where there should have been a fresh cut, was pure, unadulterated skin. 

"Hiding your immortality was wise, Draco, but not as discreet as you thought." 

Draco tried to pull his arm away but was seized by two of the Death Eaters.  Masks covered their faces and so they were not Brown Eyes, Rabid, or Tristan, but they held him just as tight.  Ron let out a scream, lunged for the fountain, but Leiss held him back. 

"You can't get to him that way," she said. 

"This was your plan, and it's gone all wrong," said Ron.  "Harry's dead.  He's been dead for six minutes now.  It wasn't supposed to take this long." 

"We didn't know how long it would take." 

"I'm never going to see my best friend again, and now they've got Draco." 

"Ron, calm down." 

Voldemort's voice broke through their argument, the hard edges enough to silence Ron.  This was a great feat, but a sickening one, as Voldemort kneeled down, grabbed Harry by his unruly muss of hair, and exposed his neck. 

"Veriatice, you've caused too much trouble.  I'm sure that whatever you and Mizar had planned was very clever, but it will not help you now." 

In one, clean motion, Voldemort pulled the dagger across Harry's throat.  Blood spilled from the wound, a perfect sever, and pooled on the stone floor.  Dark red stained stormy grey, and Ron fell forward from Leiss's clutches.  He grabbed the side of the fountain, his head fell forward, and Ron fought the urge to vomit.  Beside him, Leiss sunk to her knees, her breathing labored. 

"Harry needs a body," she said.  "He needs a body to come back to." 

Voldemort sliced Harry's body at crucial arteries and veins, allowing the blood to spill in a sticky mess until none lingered.  His skin was taut and sickly, dead, and Voldemort broke Harry's neck.  His head lolled like a disconnected joint, spinning as far as the skin would allow it to stretch before bouncing back again.  Draco winced, his mouth curled in something as simple as distaste. 

Taking the dagger, Voldemort forced Harry onto his back.  His wand touched to Harry's chest and a sick crunch echoed through the still water.  Harry's breast plate broke beneath the touch, and Voldemort ripped the thin, too-big T-shirt from Harry's chest.  From its size, Ron assumed it once belonged to Dudley, and would never be seen again.  Voldemort cast it aside, touched his wand to Harry's chest. 

The skin turned red and charred along the edges as Voldemort sliced a tear down the center of Harry's chest.  He created a sort of flap, cutting a horizontal line that ran perpendicular with the center.  Voldemort picked up the dagger, and Harry was dead for twelve minutes and forty-nine seconds when Voldemort removed his heart. 

Brown Eyes touched his wand to the long, meeting table.  A bright, hideous blue fire burst out atop it.  Together with Rabid, they seized Harry's mutilated body and threw it into the fire.  Flames curled around the skin and the heat was so intense that after half a minute, it was impossible to tell that Harry once lay under the charred remains.  With the bright blue color, and way the flames curled, Ron was reminded of Hermione's bluebell flames in first year, and he burst into tears as he watched Harry burn. 

Through the whole ordeal, Draco kept his composure.  Granted, there was a time or two when Draco grimaced or winced, but that was expected.  Ron wondered what Draco had seen before while growing up around Lucius and Narcissa for this not to rattle him.  Watching Harry die, bleed, burn was enough to send Ron over the edge, and he couldn't stop crying.  Beside Ron, Leiss couldn't move, but clutched at the side of the fountain, her knuckles white and fingertips bleeding. 

Fifteen minutes and fifty seconds passed since Harry died when Voldemort carved Harry's heart into pieces with that glittering dagger.  The moment the first piece passed Voldemort's lips and he swallowed, Leiss turned, broke her reverie, and retched.  Ron felt like vomiting himself, but could not move.  His eyes settled on Voldemort as he ate his best friend's heart.  Draco's left eye twitched.  Off to the side, collapsed against a wall, Blaise slept in a sleep so deep that he may never wake. 

Voldemort finished off Harry's heart at sixteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds.  Blood stained his lips crimson, so deep that it made his eyes seem dull.  Pale, white skin surrounded those lips, making the blood stain set even deeper than Ron thought possible.  It was horrible to watch the white clash with red like a sick, sardonic peppermint sweet. 

Seventeen minutes hit, and the Death Eaters dropped their hold on Draco.  Brown Eyes and Rabid discontinued vigil over Harry's burning body.  Even Ron couldn't stop the staring as much as he had wanted to look away only seconds ago.  Leiss pulled herself into an upright position, blinking away the water which swam in her eyes. 

Bumps crawled over Voldemort's skin.  One second they were not there, and then they were.  It was as if large cockroaches (or spiders) crawled under his skin and traveled beneath.  Voldemort howled in pain.  It was the most terrible sound Ron ever heard, like a tortured animal crying in vengeance.  Light erupted like the most miserable halo, illuminating the terrible disfiguration, and then Voldemort was gone.  In his place stood a girl, tall for her gender, but still a good deal shorter than Voldemort had been.  Ron would have been lost if it weren't for the messy mane of black hair, the bright green eyes, and a thin scar on her forehead. 

The fountain burst to life again. 

Draco gaped.  It was sort of comical considering the circumstances. 

"Potter?" 

The girl frowned, looked around. 

"Malfoy." 

Amid the mass confusion, Leiss reminded Draco to wake Blaise.  With a quick look at the girl, Draco pointed his wand at Blaise.  Almost without thinking, he said, "_Almum_."  Blaise sat up, rubbed his head, and looked around.  The Death Eaters were lost, just as stunned as Ron, but a low buzz began to filter through the room. 

"What happened?" said Blaise.  "Did it work?" 

"That's hard to answer at the moment," said Draco.  He stared at the girl.  "What do you think, Potter?" 

Blaise gaped almost as much as Draco had.  Ron would have laughed if he wasn't gaping himself. 

"Harry?" 

"Blaise," said the girl.  "Why does everyone keep staring at me like that?  I was supposed to come back from the dead.  Where's Voldemort?  Did he die?" 

"You could say that," said Draco.  "I think, anyway." 

"Would you three get out of there?" said Leiss. 

"Right," said Draco.  "The Fountain of Innocent Blood is . . . this way." 

Draco grabbed Blaise and the girl (Harry?), and pulled them from the room.  Their exit sparked something in the Death Eaters.  With the sudden movements, they were followed.  Draco wound around hallways, muttering to himself, staring at Harry as he went.  Harry didn't seem to notice the recent lack of certain appendages or the appearance of others, or at least he (she?) didn't acknowledge it.  Ron wished Draco would get his head together.  It was well and good that this crazy plan had produced positive results, but it wasn't going to end well if they didn't get out of there. 

They rounded down a hallway and into a large sort of ballroom.  In the center was a large, silver fountain.  In the center, a large, slithering serpent spit blood into the base.  Draco glanced back as the Death Eaters closed in, took a deep breath, and jumped into the fountain, pulling Blaise and Harry with him.


	22. Gender Identity Crisis

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein Harry has breasts, and there is a serious showdown with the Death Eaters.**

****

**_Chapter Twenty-Two:  Gender Identity Crisis_**

Draco, Blaise, and the girl who answered to Harry tumbled out of the fountain and onto the cold, hard Absconditus ground.  The girl rolled over, clutched her stomach, and mumbled something about not feeling well.  The letters on the fountain glowed for a moment and then went grey again.  Ron expected the Death Eaters to come through like before, but the fountain closed itself off once Draco and the rest passed through.  He supposed it was part of that protection thing.  This was a good thing.  It gave them time to try and process what happened.

The girl crawled to the fountain, clutched the edge, and vomited.  Blood and large chunks of tissue issued from her throat and washed away in the water.  Ron had a sinking feeling that the tissue pieces and blood once belonged to Harry's heart.  Mixed with the blood was a sick, gangrene sort of pus.  Blaise wrapped his arm around the girl's chest, pulled back her hair, and held her while she convulsed. 

"That's Voldemort coming out," said Leiss.  "That's good.  The faster he gets rid of the poison, the better." 

"I don't get it," said Draco.  "What happened?" 

"My guess is as good as yours," said Leiss. 

"I think they merged.  When Harry died . . ." 

"He was dead for seventeen minutes," said Leiss.  "One minute for every year of his life." 

"I didn't think he was coming back," said Draco. 

"Me, either," said Ron. 

"That makes three of us," said Leiss.  "I didn't think it'd take so long." 

Ron looked to Blaise as he held the girl.  She'd stopped throwing up, turned in Blaise's arms, and they held each other, shaking.  Her messy hair clung to her face and shadowed her eyes from Ron's sight.  In the hysteria, Ron hadn't noticed, but Blaise had changed, too.  His skin was darker, almost olive, and his once dark brown hair was now light, almost a chestnut ginger that mimicked Hermione's.  The changes were subtle, so unlike the drastic one's that Harry experienced, but they were clear as Blaise held Harry to him. 

"I'd say they merged," said Draco.  "Zabini, you kind of look Greek." 

Blaise's head snapped up and Harry pulled back, looking at Blaise.  He brushed the hair from his face, still not noticing the drastic change in gender.  Ron knew Harry could be oblivious, but this was a little much for someone to not notice. 

"You look like Lorenzo," said Harry. 

He fingered Blaise's face, the new, feminine fingers so much like the old.  Memories as Ryan crashed down of Hero taking care of him, dressing him, serving his every need.  Harry didn't deserve that, and neither had Hero. 

"You think he looks like Lorenzo, Potter?  You should see yourself." 

"What?" said Harry.  Blaise grabbed a lock of hair and swung it in Harry's face.  "My hair grew?" 

"So did your tits," said Draco.  Harry looked down, gaped, and his head snapped back up.  "How did you not notice?  That's the first thing I'd have felt." 

"I don't know," said Harry.  "Shut up, Malfoy." 

"You look pretty," said Ron.  Harry scowled. 

"I don't want to be a girl," said Harry.  "I'm a boy!  I was raised a boy!  How am I supposed to be a girl?  I don't even understand them!  I'm a fuckwit!" 

Draco snickered, hiding his face behind his hand. 

"You know," said Draco, "after the last couple of years with Potter fighting off Voldemort all the time, I thought for sure that when he died, it would be anticlimactic.  I mean, after all the chaos, what could top that in a single moment?  I was wrong." 

"What happened?" said Harry.  "After I died.  The last thing I remember is thinking Blaise was dead." 

"Sorry," said Blaise.  "Didn't have time to fill you in." 

"Doesn't matter now.  Anyway, then the killing curse came at me, and everything went black.  I don't know.  What happened?" 

"Well, Voldemort bled you, cut out your heart, ate it, and lit your body on fire," said Draco.  Blaise's face scrunched up. 

"Honestly?" said Blaise. 

"What do you think Harry just threw up?" said Leiss. 

"That was my heart?" said Harry.  "He ate my heart?" 

"Unfortunately," said Ron.  "It was disgusting." 

"No worse than what I've seen my parents do," said Draco.  "Speaking of them, now that Voldemort's gone --"

"Is he really gone?" said Harry. 

"He exploded," said Leiss.  "I mean, I guess it's good he ate your heart.  You wouldn't have had a body to come back in otherwise.  Probably would have been a ghost or a shadow.  By him eating your heart, I think you took over his body, and it merged into Hero." 

"That's why I'm a girl?  You know, I don't even like this Hero girl all that much.  I don't want to be her." 

"You'll get used to it," said Leiss. 

"You still have me," said Blaise.  He nuzzled his face into the curve between Harry's neck and shoulder.  "I will admit, though, I am going to miss you as a boy.  You were the most gorgeous creature to ever walk the planet.  Still, this version of you gave that one quite a competition." 

"Oh, Merlin, don't make me throw up, too," said Draco. 

"I love you," said Harry.  He turned his head into Blaise and captured his lips. 

"I love you, too," said Blaise. 

"If we're declaring our love and being all mushy . . ." said Ron.  He stood, crossed the space, and sunk into Draco's lap, pulling their bodies together.  Ron hooked his arms around Draco's back, spread his fingers flat against the skin.  Burying his face into Draco's shoulder, he pushed back the torn, dirty robes, and pressed his lips against the pale skin. 

"Do I need to give you time for a moment?" said Leiss. 

"We'll be good in a moment," said Draco. 

He cupped Ron's face, and Ron turned into the touch.  Guiding Ron's face to his own, Draco pressed his lips to Ron's.  He sucked Ron's lower lip into his mouth, nibbled on the flesh.  Running his tongue over the swollen flesh, Draco soothed away the sting.  Leiss coughed and turned from them, shielding her eyes.  Draco smiled against Ron's lips, stared at her from the side of his vision, and kissed Ron once more before pulling away. 

"I don't care what anyone says, I'm buggering your arse tonight." 

"Such sweet pillow talk," said Harry.  He arched one of those thin, female eyebrows.  The smile was Harry, but the face was foreign and familiar.  Hero stared at them through Harry's eyes.  Or was it Harry that stared at them through Hero's eyes?  "Oh, come off it.  If you keep staring at me, I'm going to get self-conscious.  So I'm a girl.  What's the big deal?" 

"Honestly.  People at Hogwarts are going to stare enough.  We don't need it from you, too," said Blaise. 

"Hogwarts?" said Harry.  "We have to go back to Hogwarts?  But . . ." 

"I was going to get there before you two started your mini snogging session," said Draco.  "Just because Voldemort's dead, it doesn't mean that the Death Eaters are.  You know what happened the last time the world thought he was dead." 

"The Longbottoms ended up in St. Mungo's," said Harry.  His (her?) eyebrows furrowed, full lips sneering.  "Malfoy's right.  Hogwarts is still run-over by Death Eaters.  They aren't going to give up without a fight.  They'll try to carry on in their Master's name." 

"Or my mother will try to take over.  Whichever suits her fancy at this particular moment." 

"I say we need to go back to Hideout B," said Leiss.  "The point of getting away was to fight for the school.  We've been practicing combat and working out battle tactics while you four were running around, merging and falling for each other." 

"Don't forget reading Latin and growing breasts," said Harry.  He grinned.  "I think I'm already getting used to being a girl." 

"Well you were one before," said Draco.  "And now you can say you're straight again.  How many people get to do that?" 

"Not you." 

Draco twitched and wrapped his arms around Ron, who settled between his legs.  Ron leaned against Draco's chest, placed his hands over Draco's arms, and turned his head into Draco. 

"Love you," said Ron. 

"Yeah, yeah.  Love you, too." 

"That didn't sound very convincing," said Blaise. 

"Say it with zest, Malfoy," said Harry. 

"Would you two monkeys sod off and let Rebekah talk?" 

"Monkeys," said Harry.  Blaise laughed, shaking his head. 

"I'm glad you aren't brooding," said Leiss. 

"I brood too much," said Harry.  "I choose to not brood.  If I brood, I'll go crazy.  I learned that the summer after fifth year when my godfather died.  It does best to deal with the pain as it comes and not let it get to you until it has to." 

"With that being said, I suggest we leave before Potter decides that being a girl is a thing worth brooding over," said Draco. 

"I don't know," said Ron.  "Shouldn't we be celebrating?  You -- er -- Voldemort, he's gone, now." 

"We have Death Eaters to face," said Draco.  "After that, we can celebrate all night." 

Draco stood, offered his grip to Ron, and pulled him to his feet.  Harry, Blaise, and Leiss followed.  They set out of Absconditus through the palace, came out in Weasley Manor, and were off again for Hideout B.  Ron got the feeling this happened too much in a day.  They just left this morning (or was it last night), and he couldn't wait until this was all over.  Ron hadn't had a proper sleep in months.  He missed the good old days where he could sleep until eight on a school day, noon on the weekend.

*

Back at Hideout B, Professor Leiss told the story of what happened with a detached eye.  When they arrived, everyone asked who the new girl was, and wanted to know what happened to Harry.  They came back with Blaise but seemingly without Harry, and caused confusion that rivaled the one with the Death Eaters at Slytherin Manor.  Once Leiss explained, however, they couldn't tear their eyes off Harry, and Ginny couldn't stop laughing. 

Members of the Order and the students from Hideout A congregated at Hideout B.  Once they left to embark on The Plan, Snape and Phoenix prepared backup.  Now that The Plan was successful (or as successful as it could be when Harry returned sans penis), Snape and Phoenix described their battle tactics.  It was nice to sit back and listen to what other people would do without having to be the leader.  As much as Ron got used to giving orders, he didn't like it, and didn't want to be the center of any sort of battle again.

With Voldemort gone, Snape hypothesized that the Death Eaters would congregate at Hogwarts.  It was the next logical step in the tactics.  News of Voldemort's death wouldn't reach the Ministry until someone wanted it to, and they'd be able to relocate with ease.  That left the path to Hogwarts open, but there were wards around it, and they needed to get in.  That was where the first years came in.

Draco told them about Crabbe and Goyle complaining about how the first years often tried to escape.  All they needed to do was wait for one.  They couldn't pass over the boundaries from either side, but it was easy to talk through the wards, and a first year could tell the rest of the captive students what waited outside Hogwarts grounds.  It wouldn't take much to set off mass hysteria.  All they had to do was trip the alarm around the wards, warn the students what was to come, and the Death Eaters would let them in.  They wanted a battle.  They needed to avenge their Dark Lord.

Execution of the beginning plan was easy enough.  Phoenix mapped out the battle tactic before they returned from The Plan.  This was good as it left Ron, Harry, Blaise, and Draco with little to do other than fight when the time came.  Ron felt this was good for his mental health as he didn't want to be a part of another major battle plot for at least six months.  If life was fair (which it never was, but that was a topic to brew about at another time), Ron would never have to be part of a major battle plot again.

Kerry Daubert went ahead of the group with Phoenix.  Snape thought this a bad idea but Professor Marcositi insisted that they give him a chance.  Despite his abysmal potion abilities, Kerry proved to be excellent in making deals, and hung around by the wards for fifteen minutes until he caught sight of a younger student walking around the grounds.  Though not attempting to escape, this particular student (a second year Ravenclaw) seemed to have lost it inside, and needed an escape.

How it went after Kerry returned to the group and the second year went back inside, Ron couldn't be sure.  There was no Absconditus fountain to play out the scene for him.  They allowed the students remaining in Hogwarts to think over the new development for the night.  Ron may have lost track of his days and nights, but now outside, Ron knew it was time for bed.  They bunked for the night back in the underground rooms of Hideout B after Kerry returned.

The rooms were crowded and Ron slipped away with Draco after lights out.  They walked into the infirmary and chose the bed Ron occupied only two weeks ago.  Draco drew the curtains around the bed and slid under the starchy sheets next to Ron.

"Harry's a woman," said Ron.  "I mean, not a woman like he was before, but he's actually a woman.  He sits down to piss and has tits."

"I know.  It's weird.  Can I still not make fun of him?"

"Let him get comfortable with it.  Once that happens, I'll be making fun of him.  You'll have to get in line."

"I don't know, Weasel, that sister of yours is already making fun."

"She does find it hysterically funny."

Draco wrapped an arm around Ron's waist and set a hand against the small of Ron's back.  He pushed their pelvises together, bent forward, and nipped at Ron's throat.  He kissed the skin, wrapped his lips around the Adam's apple, and sucked.  Soft moans were lost in Draco's hair as Ron buried his face in the dark strands.  Draco shivered underneath the vibrations.

"I thought I was never going to see you again," said Ron.  "When Vol -- er -- Voldemort pulled the bandage off your wrist?  I thought my heart stopped.  You scared the piss out of me, Malfoy."

"An easy task for a Weasley."  Draco kissed his way around Ron's throat and set on the crook of his neck.  "You aren't going to get rid of me that easily.  Fifteen-hundred years couldn't stop me from loving you.  Nothing ever will."

"It was more like sixteen-hundred years."

"Well, you know.  Give or take."

Draco curled his fingers around Ron's hip with one hand and pushed the hem of Ron's too-small pajama top up with the other.  His fingers danced around the muscles and Ron moaned, arching his neck back.  They were sore from being on the constant go that those small circles Draco rubbed were little slices of heaven.  The pleasure was more from the knotted muscles loosening than anything sexual, but that didn't discourage Draco.  He ducked his head forward and grabbed Ron's pajama top with his teeth, jerking it up to his chin.

Soft, wet lips touched to Ron's chest and pillowed down to his nipple.  Taking a nub between his teeth, Draco nibbled, sucked, and licked as it grew hard beneath his mouth.  Ron's fingers lay limp on Draco's back, the other hand lost in his thick, black hair.  From the merger, Draco gained a slight bit of height, hardly noticeable unless the body was pressed against your own.  The muscles felt a little longer than last time, a little harder, and Ron dropped his hand to the back of Draco's neck.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Draco whispered against Ron's stomach, causing the muscles to clench under his words.  Draco watched as the muscles in Ron's stomach tightened.  They weren't so well-defined as one might think from looking at him clothed, but he was perfect and sexy, and Draco dragged his tongue around the navel.  Tiny, delicate blond (red before the merger) hairs that trailed from Ron's navel to his penis lay soaked and flat against his skin.  Draco probed his tongue into Ron's navel, dropped his hands to Ron's thighs, and scratched his nails down the inner length.  Ron's legs twitched.

It had been too long since he felt their hips meet in awkward spasms.  It was the second time that they managed a shag, but the emotions were well-known.  Ron took Draco, cupped the back of his head, and rocked against him to his orgasm.  His thighs shook as he thrust; Draco's legs rested on Ron's hunched and heaving shoulders.  With a hand fisted in the sheets by Draco's shoulder, Ron propped up his torso, and tried not to collapse when he came.

Sticky cum dried on the sheets and flushed, sweaty skin.  Draco lay wrapped around Ron, their limbs crossed over each other in the silence that filled the infirmary.  Echoes of their cries seemed to radiate around Ron's mind, and he fell asleep with them singing in his head.

*

The looks Ron and Draco received the next morning from Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of the present Weasleys were enough to confirm that maybe Ron and Draco should have used a silencing charm.  Harry, snickering, asked how they slept, and Snape made a comment about cleaning up the infirmary.  Draco glared, pushed away the runny porridge (Ron had almost forgotten the days when it was all he had to eat), and refused to comment on anything further.  Ginny laughed every time she looked at either Ron or Harry, and Ron hoped she laughed herself into a catatonic state, the stupid little bint.

Ron forgave them.  They could have a good laugh at any and all sexual excursions between himself and Draco.  They all needed the release.  After eating, they packed up, got dressed, and headed back to Hogwarts.  The walk wasn't long, and when they arrived and tripped off the alarm, they weren't surprised to see the Death Eaters lined up, arranged, and waiting for them.  Phoenix wasn't the only one who labored over battle plans.  This was inevitable since the day of the siege.  Somehow, Ron thought it would take longer.

The wards no longer blocked off entrance onto Hogwarts grounds.  They crossed onto the grounds, walking into battle.  Curses flew around them and Phoenix called out formations.  Students that looked far too young for such combat took their places along members of the Order.  Dark fought against light, and Draco grabbed Ron by the wrists, pulled him away from the battle outside Hogwarts.  He rounded the scene, and Draco pulled Ron to the ground to send a curse at an approaching Death Eater.

By the double doors that led to the Entrance Hall, Draco pulled Ron behind a high set of hedges.  Harry and Blaise entered from the other side, and they huddled between the school and the grounds.  Pulling the long mane out of his eyes, Harry wrapped his hair into a big, messy ponytail.

"I've never had to deal with so much hair before," said Harry.  Draco snickered, earning a glare from Blaise and an elbow in the ribs from Ron.  Harry rolled his eyes.  "Yes, Malfoy, because me being a girl is so very funny."

"Ginny Weasley thinks it's funny.  Why can't I?"

Harry glared, pulled his wand out from a pocket of his torn robes (Absconditus did a number on everyone's attire), and looked at the school.

"You ready for this?" said Harry.

"Take back Hogwarts?  Fight my mother?"  Draco scoffed, pulling out his own wand.  "Sure, I'm ready.  As ready as I'm every going to be, anyway."

Harry crawled past Draco and Ron, stuck his head out of the bushes, and looked around.  Nodding, he motioned for the others to follow.  They pressed against the wall of the school and moved toward the doors.  Once there, Harry pulled a door open and slipped inside.

It was foreign and far away to be at Hogwarts.  Only three weeks passed since they first left, but so much had changed since then.  Every day that passed felt like a year, and though the school looked the same as it had when he was last here, Ron got the feeling that it went through just as much.  Low light dulled their vision but was enough for them to make out their surroundings.  Harry moved past the doors to the Great Hall and pulled a rough, worn piece of parchment from his pocket.

"What are you doing, Potter?" said Draco.

"Marauder's Map," said Harry.  "Grabbed it from my bag before we left."

"That should make things easier," said Ron.  "What have you got?"

Harry tapped the parchment, said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good" (Draco snorted), and then spidery ink marks spread across the page.  He looked it over, chewed on his thumbnail, and looked toward the dungeon entrance.

"McGonagall and the students are down in the dungeons.  It looks like they're being held there by Death Eaters.  Guess they don't want our side getting any more help."

"Not a problem," said Draco.  "We can take care of them."

"Your mother is with them."

Draco shrugged, looked away, and hung his head.

"Still not a problem.  If I have to kill her, so be it."

"You don't mean that," said Ron.

"Yes, I do.  I already killed one person.  May as well kill another."

"Who did you kill?" said Harry.

"Don't worry about it," said Ron.

Harry shook his head and they walked on in the direction of the dungeons.  It was strange, like going to Potions, only Snape would not be waiting for them.  Instead, Snape was out on the grounds battling against Death Eaters.  Still, it was a bizarre combination of Gryffindor and Slytherin, and it was a kind of torture, Ron presumed.  He tried not to laugh at this discovery and Draco looked at him, eyebrow cocked.  Ron shrugged.

With the Marauder's Map, they wound down to a blank stone wall.  Draco swallowed.

"It's the Slytherin common room.  They've been keeping them in the Slytherin common room."

"How do we get in?" said Blaise.  "It isn't like we have the password."

"I don't know.  If I were a Death Eater, what would my password be?" said Harry.  "Die, Potter, die."

Nothing happened.  Harry shrugged.

"It was worth a try."

"It wouldn't be anything stupid like that," said Draco.

"Well what do you propose?  Voldemort is king; rest in peace?"

The stone slab slid back and Harry gaped.  He opened his mouth, about to speak, but then they saw Goyle standing in the doorway, and any looks of surprise fell.

"You talk so loud out here that had you managed to formulate a plan, we'd have known it before you could put it into action."

"Still alive, Goyle?" said Draco.  "I thought my mother would kill you soon as she got word you knew Potter and I were on our way to kill your precious Dark Lord.  Shame he's dead now, isn't it?"

"I had nothing to do with that.  It was Crabbe who took you, not that he made it back alive."

Draco's face faltered.

"Crabbe's dead?"

"The other Death Eaters killed him.  Couldn't have him around after what he did."

Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at Goyle.

"You were always a coward.  Never owned up to anything you did."

"Sounds like someone I know.  Tell me, Draco, what is it like to not have Crabbe or me to hide behind?"

"_Petrificus__ totalus_," cried Harry.  He rolled his eyes and pulled his wand into his sleeve.  "Honestly, Draco, how long were you going to let him stand there before you did something?  We're here to take back Hogwarts, not have a reunion with old friends."

Blaise smirked, shrugged, and followed Harry into the common room.  Draco followed, but blinked, and looked back to Ron.

"Did Potter just call me Draco?"

Ron shrugged.  "Maybe he's warming up to you."

"Maybe it has something to do with being a woman."

"Maybe."

The Slytherin common room looked just as Ron remembered it.  Against the far wall, Hogwarts students and professors, some he recognized and some he did not, sat bound in groups, gagged.  Several Death Eaters stood around the room, but the ratio of students to Death Eaters was far in favor of Ron's side.  He moved closed to Draco and Narcissa stood, walking before them.

"Where's Goyle?" she asked.

"Laying in the doorway.  You ought to teach him about the body-bind.  Bad at avoiding it, that one," said Harry.

Narcissa's lips curled into the sort of annoying smirk that Draco had.  These days, when Draco smirked, Ron found it cute, but it was still as irritating and hideous on Narcissa.  She looked over the four, one at a time, and came to rest her eyes on Harry.  Sighing, Narcissa shook her head and crossed her arms.

"You know, I heard from Hephastus that this happened, but I didn't believe it until now.  Nice look, Potter.  Female works on you."

She had a high-pitched, wailing sort of laugh that reminded Ron of really annoying animals like fwoopers, augreys, or Professor Umbridge.  Ron winced, looked at Harry, and noticed the twitching under the sleeve which sheathed Harry's wand.

"Is that it?" said Harry.  "All you have are jokes about my gender?"

"Potter, I don't know what you think you're here to accomplish."

"Yes, I know.  You're very upset and are going to destroy me for killing your master.  I killed Voldemort.  I can kill you, too."

"He won't be alone," said Draco.  "We're here for our school, and we're just as determined as you are."

"Still haven't realized how worthless you are?" said Narcissa, drawing her wand.  "You've beaten the Dark Lord, but we will avenge him.  Make no mistake about that."

"_Stupefy_," said Harry.  He pulled his wand loose from the sleeve and attacked.  Narcissa avoided the spell but it hit another Death Eaters.  

As soon as the first fell, the Death Eaters attacked.  Curses of bright blues, dark greens, and fluorescent yellows flew around the room.  While Draco, Harry, and Blaise fought, Ron escaped under the fight and ran to the captive students and professors.  Touching his wand to the binds, he worked his way down the wall.

"They took our wands," said Seamus once Ron released the binds.  "I don't know where they took them."

Ron looked around, helpless.

"Accio," said Harry.  He sent a spell at Narcissa, who was trying to hex Draco, and then at a man wearing a Death Eater mask.  "Use Accio, idiot."

"Don't need to be so nasty," said Ron.  He screwed up his face, took a deep breath, and said, "_Accio__ wands_."

Ron didn't think they'd come, but then a high, whizzing echoed through the corridors and into the Slytherin common room.  A fleet of wands flew into the room, found their owners hands as Ron directed them.  Once everyone was armed, the Death Eaters fell fast.  Curses hit Draco without relent, but they did not slow him.  That immortal thing was helpful in times like these, Ron thought, as he avoided the curses.  A stunning spell hit Narcissa in the chest and she fell.

McGonagall took charge, gave Harry a hard, long look, and then they left the room.  Ron held back, fell into stride beside Draco.  It was nice to let someone else take charge.  Last night it was Phoenix, and today it was McGonagall.  Dumbledore, however, was nowhere to be found among the freed.  When Ron mentioned this, Harry checked the Marauder's Map, but was unable to locate him.

When they got back to the Entrance Hall, Ron saw that the doors to the Great Hall stood open.  Inside, another battle raged.  People fell from both sides, and they ran in to help.  It was confusion, and Ron didn't know how to keep hold of himself.  He sent stunning spells, avoided anything that looked hazardous as it flew in his direction.  He watched as McGonagall directed the younger students; she must have been the only source of stability and rationality in the last three weeks for them.  It must have been nice to have any sort of rationality.

Just as their brigade arrived, Narcissa was back.  By her side was the other blonde girl, her face set hard as they walked into the room.  A wand twitched at her side and she roved her eyes across the room.  Phoenix and Narcissa ordered people to positions; the battle never stopped, only escalated, no matter how slow things seemed to move in Ron's brain.  Narcissa turned to Phoenix and Leiss, who stood by his side.

"Phoenix," said Narcissa.  She raised her wand, swung it over her head, and Phoenix ran into her, knocking her to the ground.  A jet of light emerged from the end of her wand, grazed past Phoenix, and ricocheted toward the enchanted ceiling.

Leiss frowned, walked over the blonde girl.

"You," she said.  "It was you all along."

"Was there ever any doubt?" said the blonde girl.

"But what does it matter?  What do you have to do with anything?"

"I have everything to do with it!  None of this could have been done without me!  Who do you think took precious Dumbledore away from them?  Who do you think killed Lucius?"

"But -- Narcissa --"

"Isn't capable of switching."  She raised an eyebrow.  "But I am."

"Why?"

"Isn't that obvious?  Someone had to set up the whole murder from the beginning.  Someone had to set up Jude Dante's death.  Someone had to bind Larrissa and Lynx to return together against the Mages.  I couldn't just let you get on with your prophecy.  How do you think everyone knew Lynx and Bade's father were related, anyway?"

"You've been behind this from the beginning," said Leiss.

"No one ever thought that blame might partly lay in me.  I was a Keeper, and what do we do?  Nothing!  Our whole lives are wasted taking care of other people.  There's a reason so many of us take a clue and off ourselves.  We're pointless, but I refused to live a pointless existence."

"You killed them," said Leiss.

"Well, not alone.  Don't be stupid."

"You've been against us since the beginning."

"Not the beginning, Becky.  Don't think that badly of me.  There were a few hundred years when I was on your side before I turned.  What could I do?"

"You were against us in the Keeper Civil War.  That's why we were almost completely wiped out.  You were against us.  You turned me over to Lucius."

"I was five.  I couldn't have turned you over."

"Not the first time.  The second."

"Well, okay, yeah, that was me.  I've got to thank you, though.  You've done us a great favor.  We've been trying to get Lynx out of the picture for ages."

"You wanted us to kill Voldemort?"

"When are you going to learn, Becky?  Not everything is about good and evil.  It's about doing what's best for you."

"You mean doing what's selfish."

The girl shrugged.

"To each her own.  I'm sorry that it had to come to this.  Really, I am.  It wasn't supposed to go like this, but then again, we didn't expect Dumbledore to cave so quickly.  I thought he'd last at least two weeks before dying."

Leiss pulled out her wand and moved to attack, but the blonde girl was quicker.  Leiss howled in pain, doubled over, and sent a curse back at the blonde.

Ron fought off the Death Eaters around him.  Curses and jets of light flew around the Great Hall; people falling all around him.  Narcissa orchestrated the Death Eaters; the second blonde girl faced off with Professor Leiss.  Hex after hex hit Draco, and his body absorbed them without any distinguishable effect.  Harry and Blaise fought, back to back, against Rabid and Brown Eyes.  Phoenix seemed to have gone off somewhere; Ron couldn't place him in the room.

*

The battle seemed to stretch forever.  They lost some of their number, but far many more Death Eaters fell.  When it seemed that the Death Eaters, too, noticed this, they retreated out of the school and back into Scotland's hills.  Not long after, Aurors arrived, and took away the captive, stunned Death Eaters.  Phoenix slipped off sometime during the battle and went to the Ministry.

One week later, Hogwarts started to settle in again.  Most of the damage done to the school was in the Great Hall and the Slytherin common room.  Both problems were taken care of by the Ministry within days of the attack.  Professor Flitwick repaired all other damage, and the students that escaped moved in again.

Some of the Death Eaters that had gotten away were captured before December, but most were not.  Now that they had been revealed, however, a lot of the older Slytherin students who bore the Mark were on the run.  Captured professors and students testified to seeing the likes of Goyle, Crabbe, and Theodore Nott among others.  Draco gave them the location of Slytherin Manor.

The _Daily Prophet_ reported the Death Eater capture and return of Hogwarts the next day.  Along with it, they reported Voldemort's demise, and announced the deaths of Professor Dumbledore, Professor Vector, Professor Marcositi, Kerry Daubert, Lisa Turpin, and other students who fell at the battle.  It put a bad taste in Ron's mouth, and he threw the paper away almost as soon as he saw the article.  Though it was nice to remember them, honor them, they never should have died and Ron couldn't help but feel responsible.

McGonagall took over as headmistress of Hogwarts, and continued with Transfiguration lessons until a new professor could be found.  Leiss stayed at the school and recovered in the hospital wing.  Ron visited her once a day, and when Madam Pomfrey released her, she went back to teaching Prognostics.  By this time, Ron didn't think he really needed it, and they spent much of the lessons talking about what happened in Absconditus, then and now.  It served a good springboard for almost all of the assignments she gave thereafter.

Snape was given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job now that Marcositi was gone.  In his place, Phoenix switched from Pureblood Ancestry and Mythology to Potions.  Snape often said that they couldn't have found a worse successor, but now that he taught Defense, Snape was in a more amiable mood.  Of course, the sudden good disposition could also be attributed to the death of Voldemort.

As for Pureblood Ancestry and Mythology, after much begging on both Ron's and Phoenix's part, Maddock Weasley came back to the school.  Lessons were louder and more interesting than Ron was accustomed to, but he knew what he was talking about.  Besides, most of the students wanted to talk about Absconditus more than anything, and Maddock was fifth on the list of those who knew most about the subject; Draco demoted him after the four mergers.

Harry got more stares than ever.  It took a long time for everyone to get that the new girl on Blaise Zabini's arm was Harry, but it eventually sunk in.  As much as Harry complained about Hero, and whined about being a girl, Ron thought he was taking to it well.  He seemed happy, anyway, after Draco stopped calling him Hero.  He may be dealing with a gender identity crisis, but he wasn't going to deal with a new name.  Harry was Harry, and that was all there ever could be.

**Final installment next week.****  Chapter 23 and the Epilogue.  Wait in antici – pation.**


	23. Closure

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Rating: R**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Summary: Wherein Harry is being assaulted, Draco is doing the assaulting, and things are finally explained.**

**If you would like to archive me, please let me know where my story is headed.**

**Thank you's and goodbyes at the end of chapter 24.**

**I am not J.K. Rowling.  I have no money.  I live off of instant lunches and leave for class thirty minutes early so that I can get a space in the free parking lot.  Needless to say, no copyright infringement intended.**

****

**_Chapter Twenty-Three:  Closure_**

Steam billowed from the Hogwarts Express as snow dusted the ground of Hogsmeade.  Students milled about in a mass of black Hogwarts robes as they loaded their things onto the train.  Ron dragged his trunk, following Hermione's lead as she walked onto the train.  With their things tucked away, Hermione went to find an open compartment, and Ron went to find Draco.

"You can't be Head Boy," said Draco.  He stood in the Hogwarts Express corridor, across from Harry, and tried to wrestle Harry's Head Boy badge off his robes.

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't.  It's Head _Boy_.  You're a girl, genius."

"Only on the outside."  Harry pouted and dug into Draco's hand with his nails.  "Ron, keep your boyfriend under control.  He's going to tear my robes."

"But that's my job, love," said Blaise.  He approached them from the other side of the corridor, wrapped his arms around Harry, and kissed the top of his head.  "Malfoy, are you trying to take my girl?"

"What do I need Potter for when I've got Ron?"

"Gross," said Harry.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Ron.  "Is there something wrong with me?"

"No, but you and Malfoy . . . that's just weird.  I mean, come on, everyone gapes at you.  Your mother thinks it's weird.  Ginny thinks it's funny."

"Everyone gapes at _you_ since you grew a vagina.  What's your point?" said Draco.

"But that's different."

"How?"

"They're allowed to gape at me.  How often do you see a guy turn into a girl?  I mean, it's really weird.  But the two of you?  That's gross."

"Thanks."

"No problem, Malfoy.  Any time."

"Yes, I'm sure you'll be on hand, Potter, any time I need a good kick in the ego."

"I'm always willing to lend an insult."

"And that's what makes you such a good friend," said Ron.  "Come on.  We have to catch up with Hermione.  She said she'd get us a compartment and she'll be shirty with us if we take too long."

"Granger needs to get the bee out of her bonnet, honestly," said Draco.

"Nah, it's just that we hog all her best friends' time," said Blaise.  "How would you feel if you were a part of their every excursion and then one of your worst enemies took your place?  For the first time, Hermione wasn't an active part of their adventure, and she feels left out.  The least you can do is try to be empathetic."

"Or Granger could get the bee out of her bonnet."

Blaise half-rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I have to talk to my sister since I'm not going home for Christmas," said Blaise.  "You find Hermione and I'll catch up later."

"All right."  Harry gave Blaise a quick kiss and then Blaise passed them, heading down the corridor.  "Suppose we should get going before Hermione pitches a fit."

"Suppose so."

Ron led the way Hermione had gone, and they found her about two-thirds of the way down the train.  She sat alone, a ball of yarn and her knitting needles in hand.  When they entered, she looked up, smiled, and peered behind Harry.

"No Blaise?"

"He's talking to his sister," said Harry.  "He'll be along."

"What are you working on?" asked Ron.

"A blanket.  My aunt's pregnant and I wanted to finish in time for Christmas."

"Better hurry, then."

"It's almost finished.  I planned on working the entire train ride."

"Not even going to talk to us?" said Harry.  He pouted, thrust out his full, lower lip, and batted the long, feminine eyelashes.  Ron was glad he wasn't dating Harry.  He'd be able to squeeze anything out of him.  "You don't love me anymore now that I'm a girl."

"Oh, Harry, hush up."  The corners of Hermione's mouth pulled up.  "I never loved you before."

Harry's jaw dropped and he crossed his arms over his chest, resting under the curve of his breasts.  He stared down, shifted, and tried to set his arms lower on his waist.  Draco, already chuckling at Hermione's comment, laughed as he leaned against Ron.  Looking up, Harry frowned and dropped his arms to his sides, laying his palms against the seat.  He stared out the window, pouting.

"First Granger finally gets the joke and insults Potter, and then Potter has problems with his new anatomy.  This could be an interesting train ride."

"Thank you for your approval, Malfoy," said Hermione.

"You're welcome."

"I don't thank you," said Harry.  "You can piss off for all I care."

"Potter, you've had those things for over a month now.  How can you not have adjusted?"

"I've adjusted!  I remember to use the girls' loo and I finally got the hang of hooking and unhooking bras.  That takes work."

"I wouldn't know," said Ron.

"I didn't think I'd ever get to know, either."

"I appreciate having another girl around.  Ginny and I are outnumbered," said Hermione.

"Yeah, and we've got Malfoy, too.  He's kind of a girl," said Harry.

"Piss off, Potter."

Harry leaned over, grabbed the front of his robes and held them up over the previously exposed cleavage as he shifted through his school bag.  He pulled out a quill, a bottle of ink, and the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7_.    Opening up to a marked page, Harry stuck the end of the quill in his mouth and chewed.  His eyes roved the page and Hermione peered at Harry, smiling.  Ron figured she must be hiding her pure joy at Harry trying to do his holiday work before the last day of holiday.  Ron didn't want to think about holiday work; he only wanted to bask in his long-deserved rest.  Absconditus took a lot out of a person.

The last four weeks had been trying.  With Dumbledore and Voldemort gone, the wizarding world was in an uproar.  The _Daily Prophet_ refused to acknowledge any difference between the present female-Harry and the former male-Harry as if Harry had been a girl all along.  Harry appreciated the lack of attention to his change in genitalia, but it was the perfect example of the general public behavior.

Getting back into the swing of lessons, schoolwork, and being Ron Weasley was the hardest part of all.  With Voldemort's death, the entire Absconditus story emerged.  Every magazine, newspaper, or other periodical did reports on the connections between the Prophecy of Absconditus and the Four Mages.  He struggled between Ron and Ryan.  Neither one held much leverage over the other.

When Leiss recovered, Ron pulled the story out of her.  It was nice to put the pieces together, and he relayed the story to Draco, Blaise, and Harry after hearing it.  As everything fell apart in chaos, Leiss provided a little sanity to the puzzle.

Alexis Gristick was the other blonde girl, the female Switcher of the Corona Romana circle.  As pre-adolescents, she and Leiss were good friends.  It was Hermione who put the final pieces together.  Alexis was the inventor of the Switching Spell, admired as the most powerful and gifted Switcher of all time.  Dumbledore died of the poison she left behind after Switching with him at the Three Broomsticks.  She got inside to start the pre-workings of the siege, and took down the wards for the Death Eaters to cross over.

Back in the days of Absconditus, Hermione traced Alexis to a girl named Aurelis Dante.  Her brother was Jude Dante, a man who died before Bade Mizar's birth.  Lynx was her cousin, and when Larrissa became pregnant with Bade, they murdered Jude.  They tried to murder Bade, too.  He blocked their plan to take over the throne, but Bade's immortality got in the way.  They framed Ryan because he was there, and he was foolish enough to be the perfect scapegoat.  It was only a perk that he managed to fall in love with Bade.

On the day before the siege, Narcissa was in London for an alibi.  She put the body-bind on Lucius and threw him in the Thames.  They needed him out of the way, and she killed him just as she'd plotted with Aurelis to kill Jude years before.  Lynx was a side dish, used to get the proper connections until he could be disposed of.  Narcissa and Alexis tried to keep Harry busy with Voldemort while they took over Hogwarts and built their own army.

It wasn't over.  Narcissa and Alexis were still out there, but Voldemort was gone.  After that, Ron thought they could take on anything.  He'd gotten far more powerful than he was sure Alexis or Narcissa ever intended.

At least that part was over.

Ron wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and buried his face in the space between the shoulder and the neck.  He pushed back the robes and kissed the exposed skin, perfect, free of any markings.  Draco was like smooth porcelain -- perfect for touching and admiration, a beautiful sort of ornament that he wanted to show off to everyone he met.

The compartment door slid open and Blaise walked in.  Harry looked up from _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7_, where he embellished upon the cover, and Miranda Goshawk's name.  Little doodles of squares, circles, and a couple of flowers in the corner ornamented the front.  Blaise collapsed between Harry and Hermione, grabbed Harry's book, and tossed it to the floor.  Harry moved his inkwell and parchment, and pulled the quill from his mouth.

"How was the talk with your sister?" said Harry.

"Eh.  She keeps saying I can still come home for Christmas if I want to.  I told her that I didn't.  She got offended."

"My parents want me home, too," said Ron.  "Ginny's going and my brothers are all going to be there.  I told them to pop over and see us.  They just might.  Sorry about that."

"At least you have a family who wants you around for Christmas.  I mean, I'm sure my mother wants me there," said Draco.  "Of course, if I did show up, she'd probably want me as an entree or something.  Probably an appetizer.  I don't know if there's enough of me to be the main course."

"That's a nice image," said Blaise.  "Draco Malfoy, medium rare."

"She wouldn't want to give me Christmas presents, that's for sure."

"Why aren't you going home?" said Hermione.  "I'd think you'd want to."

"I do," said Ron.  "I haven't been back to the Burrow in ages.  I don't know.  Ever since the palace . . . well, it just seemed like something I wanted to look into.  I'll see them over summer holiday.  It's my last holiday away from school.  It won't kill them to not see me."

"And I want to check out the palace," said Blaise.  "Do you know what you're going to do with it?  I mean, it's yours."

"It's only mine because the Ministry's so grateful we killed Voldemort that they don't want to mess with me.  They're probably afraid it'll upset female Harry Potter and my Mage friends."

"We'd kick their arses if they tried to take it from you," said Harry.

"Right."

"What do you plan on doing with it?" said Hermione.

"I don't know.  I could give it to my mum and dad or something but I don't think they'd take it."

"You could live there after we finish school."

"It's awfully big for two people, don't you think?"

"Two people?" said Hermione.  She eyed Draco.

Ron dropped his eyes to his hands, which rested on Draco's waist.  He grinned.

"We're moving in together after this year," said Draco.  "We want to be together."

"I approve," said Harry.  "Now all the wizarding world has to do is legalize gay marriages.   I'll write to the Ministry in your defense.  If the four of us send enough letters, we could get it done.  I mean, they owe us their lives.  The least they can do is let you two get married."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Potter.  We never said anything about getting married."

"Partly because it isn't legal, but that's beside the point," said Ron.

"I'll have you married yet," said Harry.

"You don't have to worry about that.  You're a girl, now."

"Do you think I can have babies?"

"Probably.  Why?  Do you want to get pregnant?"

"Not right now.  Someday."

"Now there's an image.  Potter pregnant and bitching about his swollen ankles.  You've got a hell of a woman on your hands, Zabini.  Bet you thought it wouldn't be so bad, dating a guy."

"Actually, I like Harry any way, and I wouldn't mind having kids.  I mean, someday.  Not today."

"Great," said Hermione.  "Harry, you and I can get pregnant and complain about men together."

"You need a man to get pregnant, Granger," said Draco.

"And what's to say I don't have one?"

"Right."

"I spent all my time at Hideout A and C with Ginny and Ernie Macmillan.  You tend to notice people when they're around that much."

"Ugh, honestly?  Macmillan?  And you said that Ron and I are gross."

"I never said that."

"No, that was me," said Harry.  "I don't see anything wrong with Hermione and Ernie.  I mean, he's kind of a sod, but whatever gets you going.  Good for you."

"Thanks, Harry.  I think."

When the witch came by with the trolley, Harry and Ron bought enough sweets to make Draco grimace.  While they ate, Hermione warned Harry about excessive sweets, and how they would all go to his hips.  Blaise squeezed Harry's middle and told Hermione that Harry needed to gain weight.

Later in the ride, Ginny came by and announced that she and the entire Weasley clan should be expected at the palace sometime over holiday.  Ron grunted the acknowledgment.  Before leaving, Ginny looked at Harry, fell against the wall laughing, and big tears rolled out of her eyes to spill across her cheeks.  Harry scowled, fingered his hair, and adjusted his breasts.  Pushing a bra strap out of view, Harry looked to Ginny.  She broke into a fresh batch of laughter.

Ron got one long hug from Mrs. Weasley when they arrived at King's Cross.  Once he freed himself from her grip, they passed through the barrier.  A Ministry car waited outside the station to take them to the palace. 

Two days after Voldemort's death, there was a report of constant earthquakes in Malfoy City.  The fear was so great that the city was evacuated, and a good thing, too, because overnight, Absconditus rose from underground.  Since Malfoy Manor was on the hill that Alecto's Tower once sat upon, the Manor was destroyed, but Zabini Manor, Potter Manor, and Weasley Manor remained in tact.  Harry wasn't sure if the continuing presence of the furies in Potter Manor was a good thing. 

The Ministry gave ownership of the palace to Ron as the last remaining Alcor.  Harry insisted it was the least they could do.  With Malfoy City gone, Draco (the last remaining Malfoy that wasn't disowned or wanted) owned the space of land Absconditus occupied.  He gave everyone that once lived in Malfoy City a place to live in Absconditus through letters with the Ministry.  Memory Charms were everywhere except for Dawn and Nora Carey, who Draco requested be left alone.  The Ministry gave Harry license to use Ministry cars whenever he needed them.  Ron had to admit they were being spoiled, but so long as he was a part of the spoiling, he had little to complain about. 

For Christmas holiday, Ron wanted to go back to the palace and see how Absconditus had rebuilt.  Pictures were all over the _Daily Prophet_, but it wasn't like seeing it with his own eyes.  Blaise, Harry, and Draco agreed to the plan. 

Ron didn't recognize the landscape at first.  It was dead and barren when he last saw it, still underground and deserted.  They came in from the south, passed the hill that once housed Malfoy Manor and now sat beneath a marvelous white-marble tower that spanned to the sky.  It glittered in the light, almost blinding. 

Countryside stretched out on the left, covered in snow, and then the palace came into view.  It wasn't big, but it wasn't falling apart like the one underground, and that made it all the more beautiful.  Ron had memories, but it was nothing like seeing the palace again.  He understood why it was called Dawning Light.  The sun beat upon it and created a marvelous, magical aura that captivated him upon sight. 

"Welcome home," said Draco, kissing the side of Ron's neck. 

They unpacked the car, and the gates opened.  Harry and Blaise ran ahead with reckless abandon when the Ministry cars drove away.  They dragged their trunks behind them, scraping along the ground.  Ron turned into Draco and placed his forehead against Draco's collar bone. 

"Those two are crazy." 

"They weren't able to be crazy before.  Potter needs to act crazy once in a while. If he didn't, he'd be too moody to deal with.  Merlin knows he's moody enough as is." 

"Draco?" said a small, girlish voice that Ron at first assumed to be Harry.  He turned and saw Dawn Carey standing behind them, her hands laced behind her back. 

"Hi, Dawn." 

"I got your letter." 

Draco nodded. 

"I'm sorry." 

"It wasn't your fault." 

"Yes, it was.  I killed her." 

"It was an accident." 

"No, Dawn.  That's the thing.  I pointed my wand, I said the words, and I'm the one that killed her.  You should hate me." 

"I did . . . at first." 

"Now?" 

"I'm starting to understand.  Thank you for telling me the truth." 

"You aren't sorry you know?" 

"Sometimes I am.  Sometimes it's nice to know what happened.  She would've forgiven you, too.  Probably did even before . . ." 

"Leanne was like that.  I don't understand how." 

Dawn shifted and looked to Ron. 

"You must be Draco's boyfriend." 

"Yeah," said Draco.  "This is Ron, my reason for living.  Ron, this is Dawn." 

"Hi," said Ron. 

"Hi.  Listen, I won't keep you.  I just wanted to tell you, you know . . . I don't hold anything against you." 

"You're a better person than I am." 

"Not better, just . . . I don't know.  Have a good Christmas, Draco." 

"You, too, Dawn." 

Dawn turned, shivered in her rags, and walked back toward market.  Once she was a good way gone, Draco grabbed his trunk and started to drag it toward the palace doors.  Ron grabbed his own trunk and followed. 

"Your letter?" 

"I wrote her." 

"I gathered that much.  You told her?" 

"Everything.  The entire story.  How I'm a wizard, what happened with my father, the Absconditus adventure.  I needed her to know.  The guilt was too much, and she wanted to hear it.  She should hate me." 

"You said that I should hate you, too, remember?  And I don't.  I love you." 

"You're mental, but we've established that a long time ago." 

"Very funny, Draco." 

"Who's trying to be funny?" 

They walked into the palace and set their trunks off to the side.  Ron shook his head and little wet flakes flew off his hair.  The rest melted, his blond hair sticking to his temples, forehead, and cheeks.  Draco shrugged off his cloak, batted off the remaining snowflakes, and hung it on a rack by the entrance, his sleeves slipping to his elbows. 

"The nice thing about this place is that it's already furnished," said Draco.  "Granted, everything's antique, but that doesn't matter." 

Ron didn't answer.  Halfway through taking off his cloak, his eyes glued to Draco's arm.  He shrugged out of it and let it fall to the floor.  Grabbing Draco's arm, Ron turned it over and shoved the sleeve up.  He dropped the arm and grabbed the other, repeating the process. 

"What are you on about, Ron?  Is there something on me?" 

"No." 

"Then what are you doing?" 

"That's the point."  Ron rolled up both sleeves and exposed the bare flesh.  Both arms were clean and unmarked.  "Your training Mark's gone." 

Draco stared down at his arms and bit his lower lip.  The last time Ron had seen Draco cry was in his parents' bedroom at Malfoy Manor, collapsed on the floor and bleeding.  Now he stood there, tears welling in his eyes, and Draco laughed, pulling off his robes to reveal nothing but trousers underneath. 

"We aren't interrupting anything, are we?" said Harry.  He and Blaise walked out of the adjoining hallway that led to the servants' quarters.  "No hanky-panky in the foyer." 

"It's my palace, I'll have hanky-panky wherever I bloody well please," said Ron.  He grinned. 

"You know what I was thinking," said Draco. 

"What?" 

"I'm going to give up my gift." 

"After everything we did to protect it?" 

"Are you mad, Malfoy?" said Harry. 

"Well, I mean, you're all going to get old and I'm going to stay just the way I am.  You'd die and I'd go on living, and I don't want that.  Besides, I don't think I'm afraid to die anymore." 

Ron grabbed Draco's arm and rubbed at the spot just below the inside of his elbow. 

"You don't have anything foreboding hanging over your head." 

Draco shook his head. 

"No.  I don't want to live forever.  I want to live with you." 

"Oh Merlin," said Harry, making choking sounds.  Blaise laughed.  "I'm telling you right now.  I'm writing the Ministry.  Come on, Blaise.  You can write a letter, too.  They're going to legalize gay marriages in the wizarding world if it kills us.  Keep that immortality until they say yes, okay Draco?  Or maybe we can use that as leverage.  I can be killed now, you know.  I'll threaten suicide!" 

Harry's voice died down the hallway as he pulled Blaise away.  Draco pressed his face into Ron's chest and inhaled. 

"Are you really going to do it?  Can you?" 

"Of course I can.  There's a spell.  How else would they have taken our gifts?  It'll require a little more blood, but it's worth it.  Why?  Thinking of getting rid of your gift, too?" 

"Nah.  I mean, sometimes I hate it, but it's part of who I am." 

"You don't care that I get rid of mine?" 

"I care very much.  I want you to be with me." 

"Good.  Let's make a promise, though.  No more soul-binding.  We live this life together and that's it." 

Ron laughed.  "I promise." 


	24. In the Fray

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**AOL Screen Name: AndromedanQueen**

**Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein things aren't always what they seem.**

**Am not J.K.****  Am tired of writing disclaimers.  Please refer to previous chapters.**

**_Chapter Twenty-Four:  Into the Fray_**

There was nothing but pain.  It seared through his head, his heart, and he fought to breathe.  He convulsed forward, grabbed the closest body, and rested his forehead against their thigh.  Sweat covered his face, which had grown hot and unbearable.  Lifting his head, he fought to keep his vision, and blinked away the moisture that collected in his eyes.

"Someone grab him.  He's going to fall."

Ryan blinked, looked up to see Hero staring at him.  She pressed her hand to his forehead, pushed back the sweaty blond hair, and cupped his cheek.  A pair of strong arms hooked beneath his armpits and pulled him back, cradling him.  It was too warm; Ryan felt as if he were set to fire and left to burn.  He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe . . . Ryan felt the world shift and fade, rip out from beneath him.  He tried to grab hold, to not let go, but then he faded again, and Ryan struggled to regain consciousness.

"Bind me," he said.  His throat hissed and scratched as the words passed through his vocal cords.

"Are you sure?" said Alecto.  She walked into focus, the early light of the sun reflected off her face.

"I had a vision."

"Don't talk," said Bade.  "Do what he says.  Show us where to go."

"We need to go to the mountain.  It's the highest peak, and we need the central energy to channel closest to the heavens."

"He can't walk that far.  Can't you do it now?  Right here?"

"I'm afraid not.  You knew that from the start."

"But he can't walk that far."

Bade pressed his cheek against Ryan's and tilted his head to kiss him.

"I can do it.  Help me up."

"Ryan, no.  You can't."

"Yes, I can.  I'm not dying.  I'm --" Ryan swallowed, closed his eyes, and his head dropped back.  "I can do it.  Help me up."

"Lorenzo, can you help me get him?" said Hero.

"No!" said Bade.

Lorenzo reached out, his unseeing eyes blinking as he moved toward Ryan's labored breathing.  He seized one arm while Hero grabbed the other, and they hauled Ryan to his feet.  Bade let go without a struggle; he didn't want to damage Ryan further.  Alecto nodded, peered out the door, and whispered a spell as she touched the handle.

"The coast is clear.  Okay, Lorenzo . . . now."

A fly buzzing around the window froze.  Lorenzo hauled Ryan to a more secure position on his shoulder and unfroze his companions.  Bade stood behind Ryan, arms outstretched as they escaped from the prison.  They were on the top level with the highest security, but it meant little when Lorenzo froze time and unfroze his companions in every room they came across.  It was a long walk down the floors, and they emerged onto a warm, peaceful night in the city.

"I can walk," said Ryan.  "Lorenzo, concentrate on freezing when Alecto says.  Don't worry about me."

"I've got you," said Bade.  "I won't let you fall."

They hurried across the path and into the market area.  Ryan moved with deliberate footsteps as the sun stilled on its rise above the horizon, and water froze in the fountain's spouts.  Hero turned around and surveyed him, offered a smile, and then they passed through the market onto the south road.  Alecto commanded Lorenzo, and the companions froze for a second until Lorenzo could unfreeze them again.

"What made you change your mind?" said Hero.

They walked down the south road toward the base of Alecto's Hill.  With no one out in this area of the city, Lorenzo didn't have to freeze things so often.  Alecto glanced back at Hero's question.  Lorenzo and Bade, too, seemed to be listening.

"He said he had a vision," said Bade.

"Of what?"

"Life," said Ryan.  "In the future.  When we come back."

He coughed, buried his head in his shoulder, and forced his lungs to inhale.  A sharp sting seared through his ribs and into his heart.  His head felt dizzy, like it was ebbing in and out, and Ryan wanted to cry, only he found that he was too exhausted.  His pain, his weariness was too great for the emotion to drain.  Bade placed a hand on the small of his back and rubbed his thumb between his trousers and jerkin.

"And?"

"It didn't seem so bad."

"Did you still love me?" said Bade.  Ryan laughed, coughed, and Bade placed an arm around Ryan's waist.

"Very much.  Not at first.  We fought.  But then . . . We loved each other very much."  He turned to Hero and smiled.  "You were a guy."

"Pardon?" she said.

Bade snickered, and Hero reached behind Ryan to smack Bade over the head.

They turned onto the path to the oracle and fell silent.  Lorenzo stopped affecting time, and the sun continued its ascent into the sky.  Its rays fell upon the five companions as they worked their way though the country of Absconditus.   Ryan kept to his feet, refused to let them give out beneath him.  Bade stroked his hair, kissed his neck, and put most of Ryan's weight on himself.  Part of Ryan wanted to break free, to prove he could do it on his own, but Bade felt so comforting and kept his mind somewhat sensible.

The screaming started when they reached the base of the hill.  As they walked up the narrow path which wound around the hill, Ryan saw the city glow orange-red.  The tint spread from the fountain and he winced, trying to block out the pained cries.  This was what he had been afraid of, but things were supposed to turn out all right in the end.  This wasn't the end; it was only the beginning.  Another life waited, one with Bade, and one where they were free.  They could never be free so long as they stayed.  Why hadn't he accepted it sooner?

So many people below died, and though Ryan felt responsible, he pushed on.  More people would die if he didn't.  The karma would be out of balance and he'd have no way to set it right.

Fire engulfed the entire scene.  Ryan couldn't see through the smoke.  His head pounded and throbbed as he made his way farther up the mountain and his legs ached, begging to buckle beneath him.

"It won't be much longer," said Alecto.  He almost didn't understand.  The screaming below was too great; his head wasn't processing things the way it should.  Everything was fuzzy.

Ryan coughed, fell forward, and collapsed on the rocks.  His stomach churned and Ryan turned to the side, staining the rock with his vomit.  Sweat dripped from his brow, down his face, and into his eyes.  Everything was blurry.  He couldn't see.

"Ryan," said Bade.  His voice was soft, sweet, and he wrapped his arms around Ryan's body.  Ryan couldn't move.  The pain spread from his chest to his arms and legs.  "He isn't going anywhere.  I think -- I think he's dying."

"He isn't supposed to die yet," said Lorenzo.

"I warned you," said Alecto.  "You're going to have to carry him.  He can't die before the bind.  Hurry.  There isn't much time."

"Lorenzo, help me get him up." 

Lorenzo's arms joined Bade's, and they hoisted him up.  Bade carried him from the front, Lorenzo helped from behind, the blind man following Bade's direction.  Bade whispered his love, how this would all be over soon and then they could have peace.  Ryan couldn't help but think that the peace would only be temporary; pain would happen again.  It always did.  Bade's hand ran over his dampened forehead and pushed away the sticky hair.  They shifted in footing and came out on the level ground at the top.  They spread him out on the stone. 

"It's almost over, love," said Bade.  "Hold on just a little longer." 

"I . . . love," said Ryan, no more than a hoarse whisper.  Bade covered Ryan's mouth with a finger and then moved it, replacing it with his lips for a brief second.  Bade pulled away and slipped his hand in Ryan's.  His weak, feeble fingers tried to curl around Bade's. 

"Hero, take his other hand," said Alecto.  "You have to form a circle." 

Hero's hand slipped into his.  With Bade on one side, Hero on the other, Ryan felt secure.  At least he felt as safe and secure as he was going to be when the town screamed while the fire raged, and Ryan lay dying on stone.  Alecto moved to the center and spoke a spell he didn't know in sharp, urgent consonants. 

The pain spread farther.  Ryan tried to scream, and Bade's hand fell limp in his own.  On the other side, Hero struggled, screamed.  Ryan's lungs collapsed, and everything went black. 

It wasn't the end.  Things were only beginning. 

**I was honestly intending to respond to all my reviewers seeing as how this is the end.  I'm too lazy to do this.  Instead, I will thank all of you for reading and/or reviewing this story.  I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed plotting/researching/writing it.**

**If you enjoy this story, please check out my other stories on my author page.  If you've read them and enjoy my work, look for my new short story, _Hogwarts Slander_, coming soon.  The next series project will be called _Chasing Rainbows_.  I'm not sure when it'll be up.  Keep your eyes open.**

**If you want a personal comment, please feel free to email or IM me.  And leave reviews.  I'll be checking in.**

**Once again, thank you.  It's been great.**

**-Erin **


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